


Of Life, Love, Magic & War

by owiak



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1920s, Age Difference, Angst, Boss/Secretary Relationship, Emotional Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic descriptions of war, Grief/Mourning, Historical, Historical Accuracy, Interrogation, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Manhattan, NYC, New York City, Office Romance, Original Percival Graves Lives, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Original Percival Graves, Psychological Trauma, Roaring Twenties, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Torture, Trauma, United States, Work In Progress, Workplace Relationship, World War I, graphic descriptions of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 68,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owiak/pseuds/owiak
Summary: It is 1923 in New York City and Percival Graves stands on a street corner. To any passersby, he looks like an ordinary businessman, however, he is anything but. Percival Graves comes from a world of magic and secrecy, his job, catch magical criminals and keep the No-Majs as oblivious to the wizarding world as possible. With the aid of his new secretary, he may just be able to keep the storm brewing in Europe at bay but for now, he has to quell civil war brewing at home and contest with her fiery personality and his ever-growing feelings for her. But when life, love, magic, and war mix, nothing can be expected to go as planned.---Updates whenever I feel like but typically at least twice a week.
Relationships: Original Percival Graves & Original Female Character(s), Original Percival Graves/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be as historically accurate as possible while keeping in mind I am literally writing about a world full of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them, Harry Potter, the world, or any of the characters originally created J.K. Rowling.

New York City, March fourteenth, nineteen-twenty three. It was a grey day in the ever-growing metropolis and as people bustled about their morning business, one man stood at the corner of Park and Broadway finishing up the last bit of his cigarette. He stared up at the Woolworth building, thinking about work. 

The man, Mr. Percival Graves was not a regular working man. He wore a black suit, a crisp white dress shirt, black tie, black oxfords, and collar pins shaped like scorpions and inlaid with green jewels. To anyone passing by, he seemed a wealthy man, probably working in finance. But his job was much more demanding than that, he felt the strain of it in his shoulders.

Percival took one last long swig of his cigarette before disposing of it and making his way back to the entrance of the Woolworth building. It was a grand building, sixty stories tall with intricate carvings of limestone and thousands of windows. Yes, to anyone not really looking, Percival Graves was an ordinary businessman. 

Yet as he stepped through the revolving doors the inside appeared nothing as it should have. What should have been a two-story lobby with tall ceilings, a modest reception desk with large halls on either side, and a staircase behind it, was instead a grandiose hall decorated in black, gold, emerald, and maroon and accented by an imposing seven-hundred-foot ceiling.

Percival was in fact anything but ordinary, he was a wizard steeped in a world of secrecy and magic. His place of employment was certainly no mere office building, but the headquarters for the Magical Congress of the United States of America. His official title, Director of Magical Security and Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. 

As he stepped into the black marbled lobby and up the grand staircase he was greeted by what appeared to be a large clock in the center of the hall. This ‘clock’ had no numbers on it, instead, it was decorated with strange glyphs and multiple hands. Portions of it were segmented into colors with phrases such as ‘EMERGENCY’ and “HIGH ALERT” written in them. This ‘clock’ was currently set to “MODERATE THREAT’. 

Percival was known to check this clock several times a day, so often, in fact, he had a miniature of it in his office on the 35th floor. As the director and head of his department, he was a well-respected, if not slightly feared man. He was known to be stern and expected those under his management to be effective in their work. 

As he made his way into the elevator and selected his floor it was this exact work ethic he thought about. As of late, his secretary, Mrs. Caddersom had begun to fall behind in her duties. She was a tiny, elderly witch, with wrinkly skin and silver hair whose usefulness appeared to be coming to an end. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t a good secretary, she made him coffee every morning and brought him the morning paper, gave him his messages, and much to his annoyance all the department gossip which did prove to have some significance every now and then. She was a loyal woman but she had expressed her frustration at being unable to adapt to the implementation of ‘No-Maj’ contraptions like typewriters that would aid in her work.

It was for this reason that Percival hesitantly took up a suggestion from the head of the Department of Auror’s Mr. Minus on hiring a second secretary to replace Mrs. Caddersom upon her retirement. According to Marcus Minus, he had just the witch for the job. The woman was apparently fairly new to MACUSA, having taken a temp position as a filing clerk while the main clerk took time off to care for her newborn.

The elevator stopped, doors opened and Percival stepped off and walked down the corridor to his office. Just outside his door sat Mrs. Caddersom at her desk drinking a cup of hot water with lemon.

“Oh Mr. Graves, Mr. Minus is here to see you.” She said smiling up at him and pointing at his office door. She took his coat as he handed it to her and she followed him inside, placing his coat on a hook on the wall. Mr. Minus stood as he entered and Percival signaled for him to sit as he rounded his desk and sat down himself. 

“Would anyone care for some coffee or tea?” Mrs. Caddersom offered, they both declined and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Mr. Graves, thank you for agreeing to see Miss Matheson about the position. She’s a hard-working girl, I am sure you will find her to be quite competent.” Marcus enthused as he handed Percival his most recent review of her employment. Percival set it down on his desk without looking at it.

“Marcus, I’ve reviewed her work file already. I have no doubt she is a good kid, my concern is her lack of experience as a secretary. She’s only done basic filing and has no other work experience.” He said honestly.

“She is hardworking and committed. She’s never missed a day of work, always has her assignments in on time and she has the uncanny ability to pick things up fairly quick.” Marcus assured him.

“She is on her way up now. Listen, I wouldn’t recommend a filing clerk, no less a temporary one for the position of your secretary unless I thought it would be a good fit for you both.” As Marcus finished, Percival could make out the shape of a woman standing at Mrs. Cadderom’s desk through the frosted glass windows to his office. Both men stood and nodded to each other. Marcus took his leave, exiting and holding the door open for the young woman who entered after him.

Miss Matheson was not exactly what Percival had expected. She was young, indeed, no more than twenty years old. Her hair was gingery, wavyy and in a well kept medium bob cut that all the women seemed to be wearing these days. Her red hair and dark green eyes stood in stark contrast to her pale ivory flesh. Her facial expressions were soft but stoic.

“Mister Graves, thank you for meeting with me.” She said, her voice however reflected that of a woman much older in heart than in body and she carried a heavy Scottish accent. 

“Please sit.” He offered to her, holding his hand out to the two empty chairs in front of his desk. She sat in the chair on the right, smoothing out her long brown wool skirt as she sat. She looked like a sweet girl, he thought to himself and noted that her knit sweater was almost the same shade of green as her eyes. 

“Marcus speaks highly of you Miss Matheson…”

“Matasen.” She corrected him without hesitation.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, taken aback by the sudden strength of her voice.

“It is Mat-ea-sen, not Ma-the-son.” She said plainly. Percival looked down at the file on his desk which clearly had her name written as Matheson. Perhaps it was one of those names everyone said wrong and couldn’t be bothered with saying correctly no matter how many times they were corrected.

“Apologies Miss Matasen…” He trailed hesitantly, he was thrown off by the intensity her voice held, it did not match her gentle appearance.

“Let me be upfront with you. I have some concerns about your experience as a secretary, in that you practically have none.” He began and before he could continue she sharply responded.

“Mister Graves, it is my intention to serve in my role to the best of my ability. You want a report, I will write one. Want your messages, I can give them to you in English, Latin or French. I will adapt as I always have.” She confirmed with an air of self-confidence.

Percival just stared at the young woman perplexed. Now he understood why Marcus thought she would be a good fit as his secretary. She was firm, no-nonsense, and authoritative; she was him in a feminine five-foot-three frame. Though obviously young, she presented herself as much older, much wiser.

But even more, Percival found himself unable to read her. No, this wasn’t in the typical sense of analyzing her actions, he legitimately couldn’t penetrate her thoughts. He was a gifted Legilimens, able to penetrate the minds of those around him without their noticing but to his surprise, he could not see inside the young witches' mind. Perhaps there was just nothing to see, or perhaps she had mastered the art of Occlumency and kept her mind shielded and shut off.

“Miss Matasen, please see Mrs. Caddersom about your work schedule and desk arrangements,” Percival instructed. She stood quickly and exited his office, closing the office door behind her.

He once again stared down at the file on his desk with her name on it. He flipped it opened and browsed it again, it only contained some MACUSA paperwork and a few quarterly reviews. An empty book, that is what she was, and yet for some reason, perhaps for the first time, he thought he had met his equal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 1920s are so hard to write, particularly fashion. Most people assume trends like the flapper dress happened instantaneously, but all fashion is gradual. For this reason, my OFC dresses more closely with trends of the 1910s, which was the end of the Edwardian Era but combines it with some early 1920s trends like the loosely fitted blouses. In this chapter, I do describe her as having a short wavy bob cut, but in reality, her hair is incredibly long. In the 1920s women who didn't want to chop their long hair, but wanted to have the latest hairstyle would often braid their hair, or put it in a low ponytail and then tuck it up under the rest of their hair and hold it together with pins to create a false bob. This is what my OFC does.


	2. Chapter Two

If Percival was certain of one thing, it was that Miss Matasen was true to her word. She worked hard, in fact, she did things that he had completely forgotten were part of the job description because Mrs. Caddersom had neglected them for so long. She had not only transcribed all of his meetings word for word the following week but even included the case files discussed in the meetings.

In the following weeks, he had several times sworn he’d remembered a detail similar to another incident and she’d managed to find the case and pull it from the archives in less than an hour. While going over his schedule for the next month he found that she had already sent meeting requests to all the right people for all the right reasons at exactly the right times before he had even asked.

There was only one slight issue. It had come to light on a day that Mrs. Caddersom had called out sick with a nasty case of Dragon Pox. When Percival had exited the elevator and walked to his office, he took off his coat, as usual, greeted Miss Matasen, and handed her his coat. Except, the item never made it into her hands, it just dropped to the floor and they both stared at each other in confusion. Percival picked it up and said nothing more. However, after sitting at his desk for more than an hour he grew irritated and shouted for Miss Matasen to come into his office.

“Is there something wrong Mister Graves?” she asked, approaching his desk.

“There is Miss Matasen. Every morning when I come in, I sit here at my desk, and eventually within a few minutes, I am brought the morning paper and a fresh cup of coffee.” He said a bit angrily.

“And?” She asked, confused. They both stared at each other for a moment.

“Aaaaannd there is no coffee nor is there a newspaper on my desk.” He clarified, the irritation on his face apparent.

“Sorry, is there a point to this sir?” She questioned. He just looked at her bewildered until eventually, she scoffed at him.

“Am I to understand that I am expected to make your coffee and fetch the paper like a good girl? Am I your professional coat hanger too?” She asked bluntly, perhaps a bit more than offended.

“Miss Matasen,” Percival raised his voice.

“MISTER GRAVES,” She responded even louder.

“I was hired to be your secretary. Secretary, as in the person who keeps records, handles correspondence, and organizes your day. I am not your maid.” She said boldly, her Scottish accent the thickest he had ever heard it. She turned quickly, leaving his office and closing the door behind her with a loud thud.

Percival sat there flabbergasted. Never had anyone raised their voice to him, no one, except for maybe his parents when he was a child or Madame President when she was particularly displeased with him. Yet here he was, having just been scolded by this dainty woman barely out of her youth who served beneath him.

He stayed in his office that day until lunch when he stepped out as he typically did. They said nothing to each other as he passed her desk and in the following days that Mrs. Caddersom stayed home ill, he made a note to grab a coffee and newspaper before heading into work.

As the weeks passed, Percival often thought about that day. It was very rare that anyone stood up to him or attempted to put him in his place and looking back on the whole ordeal he realized he was mistaken to have assumed she would fulfill the menial tasks Mrs. Caddersom did. After all, the elderly woman had always somewhat doted on him like a prized son.

Miss Matasen was clearly not going to dote on him and after some time he had gotten used to it and when Mrs. Cadderson had finally retired; the transition was practically painless. In a way, it was refreshing for him. He didn’t have to listen to petty gossip and with Miss Matasen being as effective as she was he found himself able to work in the field more often.

After nearly eight months of working together, he found himself bothering less with paperwork as Miss Matasen diligently absorbed everything he said upon returning to the office from the field. It got to the point where he didn’t even fuss with looking over the files before submitting them because he knew everything was as it should be.

He had begun to actually enjoy her unyielding personality. For some reason, he took great pleasure in watching the young witch scold others in the department for their ineptitude. In one instance another department head had come to his office for a meeting and rather boldly asked Miss Matasen to fetch him lunch. It was like watching a dragon maul a lamb and after she stormed out of the office Percival couldn’t help but openly chuckle at his contemporary.

Yet Miss Matasen still had this profound way of surprising him, not by being her bold and abrasive self, but by showing him the slightest bit of… kindness. It was a cold November evening, he had returned to the office just as Miss Matasen was preparing to leave for the day. He informed her of events of his fieldwork that day and the two of them ended up staying well past office hours writing up the report. 

Percival sat at his desk, muscles tense and slightly aggravated by the case as he waited for Miss Matasen to return from the archives with the files of two particular suspects. When she re-entered his office, she placed a cup and saucer in front of him and sat down, opening the files and reviewing their contents. He looked curiously at the cup and then at her.

“It’s tea, not poison, Mister Graves.” She assured him without looking up. He took the cup and held it to his mouth, lightly blowing on the hot liquid. The aroma was pleasant and soothing and when he sipped he tasted a hint of licorice root.

“Thank you.” He said softly. She just continued her work. By the time they were finally done it was well past 10 PM and she had made him another cup of tea before they set out to leave. As Percival cleaned up his desk Miss Matasen took his coat off the hook and held it open for him. He slid his arms into the sleeves as she helped him adjust the collar and put one hand on his back to usher him out of the office.

As they took the elevator to the lobby, they stood in silence next to each other. As they left the building, she firmly told him to go home and straight to bed as she put a large amount of Valerian in his tea to help him sleep. As he watched her walk down the dark street before apparating away he swore that perhaps she was doting on him the way Mrs. Caddersom had.

That night he slept more deeply than he had in years and awoke to feel refreshed. He slept so well in fact he got up earlier than usual and decided to head into the office early. He arrived before everyone else and sat at his desk reviewing his paperwork. Miss Matasen arrived shortly before 8 AM, he watched her shape through the frosted glass windows of his office as she took her coat off and draped it on the back of her chair.

She stepped away from her desk and disappeared for a few minutes before returning and opening the door to his office. He must have caught her by surprise because she flinched at the sight of him sitting behind his desk, the action causing her to spill some of the contents of the cup she was holding.

“Mister Graves, I didn’t realize you’d be in so early.” She said, moving the cup and saucer to her other hand.

“Yes, well I slept fairly well.” He said watching his secretary with confusion. They both stayed silent for a moment; him still at his desk and she still standing in the doorway.

“Is… there something I can help you with Miss Matasen?” He asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that had descended upon them.

“Oh, um.” That was all she managed before swiftly making her way to his desk and placing the cup and saucer upon his desk along with a newspaper she had tucked under her arm. She left his office quickly and shut the door behind her. 

He stared at the cup on his desk, fresh black coffee and three cubes of sugar sat in the saucer underneath. Perhaps, he thought, he didn’t understand Miss Matasen as well as he assumed. She was a conundrum of a woman, young but old, delicate but sharp. A woman who commanded respect and did not dish out kindness as easily. Yet apparently he’d done something to earn enough respect from her to be brought his morning paper and coffee, something she made clear she would never do. He thought about it as he read the paper. It must have been yesterday, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering what my OFC's first name is, there is a legitimate reason it hasn't been mentioned yet. Please bear with me, I am trying to show how their relationship changes over time.


	3. Chapter Three

November of nineteen twenty-three moved about as quickly as a horned slug. That is to say, it dragged out rather unbearably for Percival. The days were damp and cold, news constantly arrived from Europe of Dark Wizard activity and there was a growing concern that it would spill across the Atlantic. MACUSA, therefore, was repeatedly reminding the wizarding community of its strict policy of staying out of European wizarding politics. 

Just prior to Thanksgiving, Percival sat in his office reading the morning edition of The New York Ghost, when Miss Matasen knocked on his door. 

“Come.” He prompted her. She entered carrying some files he requested and placed them on his desk, he set the paper aside and took the files. Miss Matasen grabbed the newspaper from where he had placed it, a look of concern washed over her face as she read a small obscure article on the fifth page.

“Grindelwald.” She whispered mostly to herself. Percival looked up at her from the files.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, reaching for the paper. She moved closer, showing him the article. The headline read ‘DISTURBANCE IN AUSTRIAN ALPS’ and detailed how Italian and Austrian Wizard Authorities were investigating large disturbances in the Alps believed to be the work of dark witches and wizards unknown.

“More of the same out of Europe.” He told her not understanding the significance she saw in the article.

“It’s Grindelwald. He’s planning something.” She said plainly, concern obvious in her voice.

“Who?” He asked, she turned her face towards him with a look of confusion. A look that said ‘how don’t you know’.

“Gellert Grindelwald... He’s been gathering followers across Europe for years.” She said hoping that would help her boss remember what she felt should already be known.

“Followers? For what?” Percival asked. He genuinely had no idea who the wizard was. MACUSA and the American Wizarding Community rarely took interest in foreign affairs.

“Seriously? You have no idea?” She asked, her brows furrowed.

“MACUSA doesn’t bother with the affairs of other nations.” He reminded her.

“Grindelwald and his followers do not care about your policies Mister Graves.” She said harshly, tossing the newspaper down on his desk.

“They mean to infect this world like some unholy beast… are you Americans not part of this world? Or will you continue to resign yourself until the last moments when most of the blood has already been spilled?” Her face had turned red in frustration and she quickly left his office, not bothering to close the door behind her as she grabbed her coat from her chair and made her way towards the elevator.

Percival sat there in the usual confusion his young secretary had left him in. But this confusion was markedly different, for the first time he managed to glimpse into her mind, and what he found only left him more curious than before. For one, the Great War was a sensitive topic for her but second, and most importantly, Gellert Grindelwald was someone who brought her fear and concern. 

Enough fear and concern that she had dropped the wall she had built around her mind. He sat back in his chair and looked down at the newspaper article again. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to familiarize himself with the happenings in Europe. After all, although Madam Picquery staunchly reminded everyone not to interfere in international affairs, he was the head of security.

He quickly stood, grabbed his coat, and left his office to head to the communications department. There he could request copies of international wizarding newspapers and send out a pigeon to his English counterpart for information on the dark wizard Grindelwald. After setting up the delivery for several periodicals and sending a letter to the Ministry of Magic in England, he left for lunch.

As he stepped out of the Woolworth building and onto the bustling sidewalk he spotted a familiar face. Miss Matasen sat across the street on a bench in front of the park looking at her hands as they rested in her lap. He crossed the street dodging pedestrians and No-Maj automobiles until he stood in front of her.

“Come on, I know a good place for lunch.” He said, holding out his arm for her like a proper gentleman. She looked up, her face void of any emotion but clearly processing whether or not she could actually deny an offer from her superior. 

She sighed audibly, finally establishing that she could not storm away as she had done before and stood, hooking her arm with his. They walked through the park until they were out of sight of any No-Maj’s and Percival apparated them to a deserted side street. Rounding the corner, he let go of her arm and opened the door to the restaurant for her. 

The host escorted them to an empty table where Percival took Miss Matasen’s coat and pulled out her seat for her. Her face told him what he already knew, she looked uncomfortable, though he couldn’t tell if it was due to some equal sexes views she may hold or if it was from being in a fancier eatery than she was probably used to.

They were brought menus and after looking it over briefly, Percival was ready to order. He asked for a sirloin steak with two eggs, french fried potatoes, and a pot of coffee, no milk or cream, just sugar. He looked at Miss Matasen, as if to ask what she wanted but saw that she looked remarkably like a lost child sitting across from him. She kept her eyes on the menu before looking up at the server and asking for rye bread with butter.

“Is that all Miss?” The server asked, confused. 

“Forget the bread. Please get her the wheat cakes with maple syrup and the freshest preserves you have. A pot of black tea with cream on the side and… honey or sugar?” Percival suddenly stopped to ask her.

“Sugar.” She said softly, not looking at him.

“Alright, it will be out shortly.” The server told them, taking the menus and retreating to the kitchen.

“I am aware you probably do not carry No-Maj money, Miss Matasen. My invite to lunch was an offer to pay for it as well.” He assured her, yet still, she kept her eyes down in her lap. He sat back, releasing a heavy sigh.

“Is Grindelwald why you left Europe?” He asked gently.

“I left because I wanted to.” She answered sharply but still softer than she would normally reply. He chuckled at her answer.

“I bet that attitude got you into some trouble at Hogwarts.” He joked, but also meaning it.

“Just a fair bit.” She admitted hiding a smirk.

“No doubt you were an annoyingly proper boy at umm… wherever it is you Americans go.” She said, sitting up straighter and finally making eye contact with him.

“Ilvermorny.” He corrected her.

“Yeah, that place.” She added. Percival smiled but neither confirmed or denied her assumption. They sat in silence for a long moment.

“Miss Matasen,” Percival finally said.

“Do you believe Gellert Grindelwald poses a threat to America?” He asked seeking honest counsel.

“I think it would be unwise to underestimate him. I’ve been rather fortunate to have never met him but few who oppose him live to tell their tale.” She answered.

“There are whispers that he wants to expose our kind. An old professor of mine believes Grindelwald is building an army.”

“An army? What kind of authority is your Professor to put out that kind of rumor, no doubt it’s just speculation.” Percival tried to rationalize.

“Albus Dumbledore is perhaps the highest authority on the matter. And he does not spread hearsay.” She defended.

“Dumbledore.” Percival repeated. Now that was a name he was familiar with. Dumbledore was respected across the Wizarding World and it suddenly made sense why Miss Matasen expressed concern over Grindelwald’s activities.

“Oh Merlin, please tell me you at least know who Dumbledore is.” She begged, Percival just gave her a glare which drew a rare grin from the young witch.

Their meals arrived and they further discussed the situation in Europe. On their return to headquarters, he informed her that her duties would now include briefing him on an activity overseas that may affect MACUSA but gave her strict instructions to not let anyone else know.

If Madame President found out, it would be seen as meddling. Percival however did not want to be caught off guard should Grindelwald try to extend his reach to the States. Miss Matasen as always was diligent; every morning she browsed the European papers looking for anything of significance to report. 

Her comment during her interview about giving him his messages in three languages turned out to not be a joke. She, in fact, was fluent in several languages including Latin, French, Italian and oddly enough she had a basic understanding of Russian. This meant she could extend her search to foreign language papers.

Their briefings hardly brought any pressing matters but Percival found them to be useful, telling Miss Matasen that while they may not see an impact on the continent for several years at least they’d be prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put way too much research into this chapter, specifically what would be on a 1920s menu. I looked up some real menus, which I recommend everyone do because they are beautifully decorated but some of the options sound ridiculously gross. I really wanted to emphasize the fact that Percival Graves is obviously well paid and could afford a pricey lunch. His meal totaled about $3-$4 in the 1920s and Miss Matasen's original order of toast was about $0.30. By changing her order, he brought the total of their meal to about $7 which shows that Percival doesn't really worry about money.


	4. Chapter Four

Nineteen-twenty three finally blew over in a series of snowstorms that crippled the No-Maj community by causing havoc to their trains and automobiles. MACUSA however, moved forward as always and after Christmas, preparations were being made for the annual end-of-year ball held at the headquarters.

Percival didn’t particularly enjoy parties but the ball usually wasn’t too bad. It really was more of a mixer, a chance for departments to interact in an unofficial capacity. Plus, as the head of his department, he had no choice but to go as Picquery repeatedly reminded him.

“What do you mean you aren’t going to go?” He heard a familiar voice squeak from outside his office door. He could see the silhouette of Miss Matasen at her desk and that of another woman, who sat on the edge of it.

“Oh, it is so much fun! Ain’t you ever go to a ball before?” Queenie Goldstein asked. Miss Matasen either didn’t respond or did so quietly.

“Pleaaaaseee. We can go shopping.” Queenie insisted. Miss Matasen seemed to be ignoring her. 

“I won’t let you do this to me E. You are giving me the ball,” Queenie demanded. Percival chuckled from his desk as the peppy young witch tried to convince his secretary to attend the New Years Gala.

“You are no fun!” Queenie teased. Miss Matasen just stood from her desk and bid the other witch farewell.

Percival looked at the time, it was just past the end of work hours. He stood from his desk and grabbed his coat and headed out the door. As he closed the door behind him he found Queenie still sitting on Miss Matasen’s desk.

“Miss Goldstein.” He acknowledged.

“Hello, Mr. Graves.” She said politely. He started down the hall when he heard Queenie hop off the desk and run after him.

“Oh, Mr.Graves maybe you can help me.” She said enthusiastically. He looked over at her curious about her assumption. 

“Make it mandatory for Edith to go to the Gala.” She demanded. Percival raised an eyebrow at her. Edith? He questioned and that was when it dawned on him that Miss Matasen had been working for him for nearly a year and he hadn’t learned her first name. He quickly pushed the realization aside and continued walking towards the elevator.

“Miiiisstterr Grrraavvvves.” Queenie trailed after him.

“I cannot force her to go.” Percival told her.

“But sir, she is all alone here, her family is all back Scotland. I invited her over for Thanksgiving and Christmas but she said no.” Queenie mentioned, hoping it would sway him.

“Have you ever considered that she may just not like you?” Percival asked as he stepped into the elevator. Queenie gasped offended as she followed him in.

“That was a joke, Miss Goldstein.” He assured her. He tended to forget that he didn’t have a friendly voice.

“Mr. Graves,” Queenie pleaded.

“Tell me it doesn’t bug you that she declines every offer to join us for the quarterly socials. She spent the holidays alone. She never talks about herself. I only found out last week that she can write with both hands!” Queenie exclaimed, trying to emphasize her frustration.

“Miss Goldstein, I appreciate that you are trying to thaw my secretary’s cold exterior but you cannot force someone to open up to you.” Percival reminded her. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out into the lobby. Queenie grabbed the sleeve of his coat to stop him.

“Please…” She asked once more, batting her eyes as sweetly as she could.

“Goodnight Miss Goldstein.” He said, pulling his coat from her grasp. He left the building and headed home.

Home for Percival was across the bridge in Brooklyn. He lived in the Prospect Heights neighborhood in a penthouse overlooking the plaza, library, and west end of the park. It was an affluent area with the museum and botanical gardens just down the street.

As usual, he apparated into the park and crossed the large road to his building on the corner. Like any other night, he greeted the doorman, took the elevator up to the twelfth floor, the top floor that is, where he waved his as he walked towards his door to release the spells protecting it. He stepped inside, shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and went to his study.

As he sat down at his desk he looked around his darkly lit apartment. It was a well-kept home, everything in its place and honestly, hardly lived in. He had moved in nearly a decade ago, the last gift his father had given him before his passing. The elder Graves had hoped the apartment, with its three bedrooms, two baths, large living and dining areas, grand kitchen, and in-home study would encourage his son to settle down.

Yet, as his mother had suspected, the only relationship that Percival found solace in was the one he had with his career. Still, after his father's passing Mrs. Graves finely furnished her son's apartment with everything a young family may need, and after the Great War ended she returned to Ireland to take over her parents' estate. So the penthouse sat mostly empty, the two extra bedrooms collecting dust.

To most people, Percival seemed content with the vacancies, he wasn’t a social man and for the most part, they were absolutely right. His devotion was to his work. Loneliness was not something he felt but then again, as his mother reminded him in every letter she sent, being a bachelor at thirty-eight was almost guaranteeing that the only women who would have him were the ones after the money left by his father. He was relieved she stopped arranging meetings with every well-to-do witch she knew from her social circles.

He sat back in his chair and glanced at the photo of his mother that sat on his desk. Despite her pestering, she was a lovely woman. Every Christmas she would decorate the house with hundreds of candles, enchanted snow, and always made sure Percival had his favorite treats. He recalled being a small boy, holding the bottom of her dresses up so they wouldn’t get ruined by the snow as they played outside together.

Even after he had become a man and she left back to Ireland, she always mailed him more gifts than necessary and she enchanted every letter so that upon opening hundreds of tiny snowflakes burst out and fell around you. He smiled at the thought of his beloved mother but his smile quickly faded as his mind was brought back to what Queenie Goldstein was pestering him about earlier.

His secretary Miss Matasen had not gone back home for the holidays and declined offers to spend them with a coworker who cared for her. He wondered if she received any gifts or letters from her family. Did she miss them terribly? Were their hearts broken when she told them she would be staying in America for the holidays? Did her mother cry on Christmas morning when her daughter was not sitting beside the fireplace? 

He suddenly felt odd thinking about Miss Matasen’s personal life. He was an intelligent man, but he often forgot that the people around him had a depth to them, for some reason they hardly seemed like people at all. He learned not to pry or ask questions but his secretary always seemed to leave him wanting for more information. He had come to realize this was because he had been repeatedly unsuccessful at probing her mind.

Percival found himself unable to vanquish her from his mind. What was it Queenie had called her? Edith? Edith Matasen. How truly little he knew of her, despite the professional rapport they had built. What kind of student had she been? Which kinds of magic did she excel in? Did she look more like her mother, or her father? Who did she call a friend? Was there someone who held her heart? How long did she plan to stay in New York? Why did he feel a knot in his stomach at the thought of her back to Europe?

Sleep came with great difficulty that night. Percival dreamt of storm clouds and nothing else. Just wind, rain, thunder, and lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about the details of Percival’s apartment: It is based on a real apartment in the Prospect Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn!! My grandmother has lived along Eastern Parkway for decades and when I was younger she used to care for an elderly woman in one of the penthouses of Copley Plaza. I often went with her and I deeply loved exploring the apartment, every room seemed to loop into one another and for some reason, it felt as if there were more than twenty rooms. The old lady's apartment overlooked a beautiful branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, Grand Army Plaza, Prospect Park, the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and the Brooklyn Museum. All institutions that were already existing in 1923. The least historical part… Copley Plaza wasn’t built until 1926. Ooops, but for the sake of my story, we’re going to ignore that detail because the building and penthouse fit so well into the Percival Graves story.


	5. Chapter Five

By the end of the week on Friday, things had slowed down at headquarters. The usual workflow was replaced by talks of the gala and all the witches were deeply immersed in conversations regarding their outfits. All the witches… except for one silent but headstrong secretary. 

As expected, Queenie Goldstein continued to trail after him and corner him at every chance she could in a last-ditch effort to make Percival require his assistant to attend the gala. He held firm that he would not force Miss Matasen to go against her will.

Yet something unexpected happened just before lunch. While away from her desk, a visitor arrived for Miss Matasen. A brunette witch, just about her age wandered down the halls clearly lost prompting him to ask if she needed assistance. The witch, an Englishwoman as it turned out, was looking for an old school friend of hers. 

“Miss Matasen?” Percival inquired with some surprise.

“Yes, I seem to be lost trying to find her though. The gentleman at the lobby reception said she worked on this floor.” The witch explained to him.

“Well, you are in the right place.” He assured her.

“Percival Graves,” He said, holding out his hand to her. She shook it with a smile.

“Miss Matasen is my secretary, she just went to grab some files from another department.” He informed her, escorting the brunette to his office. 

“Oh, so you’re the stiff.” She replied and then her eyes went wide realizing she had said that aloud.

“I-i-i, I just, she said you were… oh, um.” The witch stumbled as she sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“If you mean that I’m uptight, I don’t blame her for believing so.” Percival said, trying to calm the young woman. He laughed internally, apparently, his secretary thought he was as lively as a corpse.

“She loves her job.” The brunette affirmed.

“Rest assured, her job is safe.” He joked, the brunette smiled at him.

“Angelica Versal.” She announced.

“That’s me… Obviously, it’s not you.” She stammered before furrowing her brows, trying to figure out why she kept talking.

“Amazing.” That was all Percival had to say. Angelica looked at him curiously.

“I just mean that, for friends, you and Miss Matasen seem to be almost polar opposites. She barely speaks and you clearly, no offense, continue to do so against your better judgment.” He pointed out. Angelica gave out a hearty laugh.

“She’s always been more disciplined than me, kept me out of a lot of trouble at school… well no, I kind of got her into a lot of trouble at school.” Angelica admitted. They sat silent for a few minutes, both hoping that at any moment Miss Matasen would return. When she didn’t, Percival decided maybe he would gather more intel on his secretary.

“So, Miss Versal. How long has it been since you ladies have seen each other?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Ohhh, umm. Almost two years. Had a hell of a time begging her not to leave in the first place.” Angelica acknowledged.

“She is quite stubborn isn’t she.” He added.

“Gets that from her mum. Force of a woman she was, but I guess that’s why she left. Everything in that house reminded her of her mum. No point in waiting on a ghost you know will never show.” Angelica said sadly.

Percival felt a twinge in his heart. Had he heard the witch correctly? Had Miss Matasen lost her mother so early in life? His mind pulled up an image of Miss Matasen sitting next to a fireplace on Christmas, waiting for her mother to come back from the grave.

“I didn’t know she had lost her mother.” Percival admitted softly. Angelica’s eyes once again widened knowing she had revealed too much. Just as Angelica was about to start speaking again Miss Matasen walked through the open office door, eyes fixated on the newspaper in her hand. She handed Percival some files, seemingly oblivious to her friend sitting in the chair.

“Miss Matasen.” He called, pulling her out of her concentration. She looked up at him with inquisitive eyes and he nudged his head in Angelica’s direction. Miss Matasen turned her head, glanced at Angelica, and then back at Percival before realizing who she had seen sitting there.

Miss Matasen tossed the newspaper at Percival and flew into the arms of her friend. Angelica laughed as they hugged.

“What are you doing here?” Miss Matasen asked, shocked to see her friend before her.

“I came to see you of course! Let me say, you are a difficult woman to find. I looked everywhere!” Angelica revealed.

“Silly muggles made me change my name. Thought it would help me acclimate better.” Miss Matasen grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously?” Percival asked, shocked by the revelation.

“Why do you think I hate when people call me Miss Matheson.” She pointed out. 

“No one can change my Ettie Matasen.” Angelica beamed hugging her friendly so tightly she may as well have been choking her.

“Alright, let’s go. That boat ride was so awful, I haven’t been able to keep any food for days and I am famished.” Angelica said, pulling Miss Matasen towards the door.

“Ang, I’m working.” She reminded her eager friend.

“Mr. Graves doesn’t mind, do you sir?” Angelica said, grabbing her friend's coat and looking back at Percival behind his desk. He got the sense Miss Versal could get his secretary to leave her comfort more often than she liked.

“Not at all. In fact, if you ladies don’t mind some company.” He suggested. Miss Matasen’s face went pale, meanwhile, Angelica’s lit up.

“I want the New York experience.” She informed him as he grabbed his coat and closed the office door behind him. As the three of them walked towards the elevator, the familiar sound of heels moving rapidly brought a breathless Queenie Goldstein around the corner.

“Edith! Plllleeeeeeaaaaasssssssse.” She begged.

“Queenie I said no.” Miss Matasen reminded her sternly.

“No to what?” Angelica asked. Percival watched as his secretary's eyebrow twitched in frustration, she was cornered and she knew it. Percival decided at that moment, he wanted to break Miss Matasen’s sturdily built walls.

“Ah, Miss Goldstein. Would you care to join us for lunch? This here is Angelica, an old school friend of our favorite witch.” He offered, Miss Matasen shot him a glare, it was the one that said ‘don’t you dare’, but he dared anyway.

“Miss Versal, every year here at MACUSA, we hold a large Gala, employees and their friends and family are encouraged to attend.” He informed her, as he signaled for Queenie to get moving and guided Miss Matasen and her friend towards the elevator.

Angelica proved to be an open book, especially when it came to the antics of her and her friend during their school years. She regaled them with stories of liberating food from the school kitchen and sneaking into the forbidden forest to feed all manner of creatures big and small.

“Remember Professor Binns?” Angelica suddenly gasped, changing stories for the millionth time over the course of lunch.

“How does anyone forget him? The man died in the staff room in our third year and then his ghost returned immediately to keep teaching classes.” Miss Matasen reminded him.

“You had a ghost for a teacher?” Queenie asked excitedly.

“Dreadfully boring man.” Angelica confirmed as she sipped her tea.

“Now, Miss Goldstein,” she started again.

“Please call me Queenie.” The blond witch asked. Angelica smiled and shot her beloved friend a sinister look.

“Queenie, tell me more about this gala on the 31st.” Angelica asked, there was no hiding her plans to rope Miss Matasen into going.

“Oh, there is food and dancing and beautiful dresses… and boys.” Queenie teased. 

“I keep trying to get her to go but she doesn’t like me apparently.” Queeniemocked.

“I do not like parties.” Miss Matasen reminded Queenie.

“That is a bald-faced lie. You were thrilled for the Celestial ball at school!” Angelica revealed. Miss Matasen sat stone-faced in her seat with her arms crossed.

“Oh you had to see her Mr. Graves, she looked so cute in her blue and white dress. I thought Thomas Mayers was going to pass out when he saw you.” She reminisced.

“The boy had emphysema. He always looked like he was going to pass out.” Miss Matasen added.

“Oh and then Les Muldorf asked you to dance.” Angelica squealed, Queenie laughed and Percival did everything he could to suppress a chuckle.

“So why do you not want to go to the gala?” Angelica asked, trying to understand her friends' sudden instance that she hated parties.

“Is this about…” Angelica started to say but Miss Matasen shot her a look that shut the brunette up quickly. The tension grew thick.

“Ettie,” Angelica whispered.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” She added softly. Miss Matasen quickly stood from the table and excused herself to the restroom. It was brief but Percival once again managed to find a crack to peer through. Yet all he could see in her mind was darkness.

“She’s a wee bit sensitive.” Angelica tried to say jokingly but she sat quietly in her seat unable to shift the mood. Percival could see both Angelica and Queenie had suddenly begun to feel very guilty for upsetting Miss Matasen. 

The trip back to headquarters after lunch was awkward, to say the least. Before leaving, Angelica pulled her friend aside, gently cupping the other woman's face, and spoke to her in a sincere manner. At least Percival assumed she did, as he was too far away to hear anything.

The day dragged by painfully afterward and Miss Matasen seemed to be stuck in a fog she could not escape. Percival thought, perhaps he allowed things to go too far and made a note to apologize when he had the chance to speak to her alone. But the opportunity never came, just ten minutes before leaving Miss Matasen knocked on his door announcing the President Picquery was there to see him. She was the last person he wanted to see.

Madame President waved Miss Matasen away from the door and closed it herself and approached Percival like a beast would approach his prey.

“Seraphina.” He acknowledged.

“I assume you are prepared for the Gala on Sunday.” She questioned.

“As always.” He replied.

“It really is a shame I have to force you to attend these types of events Percival. We are leaders, we have an example to set.” She reminded him.

“I will behave if you do.” He propositioned her.

“What happened to us, Percy? We used to be friends in school and now I can’t help but feel that you hate me.” She admitted.

“Some of us just don’t crave power the way you do.” He said boldly. Picquery stared at him tight-lipped.

“I can’t wait to see you and Miss Matasen on Sunday night.” She offered politely, turning to leave.

“Miss Matasen is not attending.” He informed her, shuffling the files on his desk. Seraphina turned to him.

“Excuse me? And why not?” She asked firmly.

“Because she has free will Phina.” He half-joked.

“Mr. Graves, do I need to remind you that you are Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Your appearance at these functions is important, as is the appearance of those on your team.” Picquery stated with power in her voice.

“Since when is my secretary a matter of importance to the image of my department. Mrs. Caddersom was never forced to attend.” He pointed out.

“Mrs. Caddersom understood her role and did not need to be reminded of her place in the department. I suggest you tell your assistant to find something appropriate to wear.” Picquery seethed.

“Secretary.” Percival corrected her before she threw open the door and trotted down the hall. Miss Matasen entered his field of vision with her coat on ready to head out.

“Why does she hate you?” The young witch asked. Miss Matasen had become accustomed to President Picquery storming in and out of his office but it was clear she never fully understood where the tension stemmed from.

“If it helps, she hated me at school too.” Percival lied. Miss Matasen just nodded as if that was an acceptable response.

“Goodnight Mister Graves.” She said, turning to leave.

“Um, Miss Matasen. Your attendance at the Gala on Sunday is requested.” He told her, hoping that he wouldn’t be scolded by a woman twice in less than ten minutes.

“I thought I made it clear Mister Graves,” She started.

“You did, but our friend the President just made it mandatory.” He informed her. Miss Matasen looked severely displeased.

“I am sorry if this interferes with any plans you may have made with Miss Versal.” He offered.

“I… I don’t have formal wear Mister Graves.” She threw at him, hoping it would be enough to wiggle her way out. He stood and grabbed his coat, escorting her to the elevator.

“Seeing as this is now a business function, I will cover that.” He said, opening his wallet and pulling out several bills, and placing them in her hand.

“Mister Graves.” She protested as the doors closed and took them to the lobby.

“I cannot take your money.” She persisted.

“Yes, you can. Make a day of it, take Miss Versal with you, tell her to get herself something to wear too. If you’re going to be as miserable as me the whole night at least do it in fashion.” He said exiting the elevator and walking with enough speed to avoid getting an earful from the young witch.

“Mister Graves!” She shouted as she stopped at the top of the lobby stairs but it was too late he had run out the doors to the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback anybody? Anybody? Buller?


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I severely and sincerely apologize for any spelling, grammatical and structural mistakes in my writing. The writing guides on my Google Docs don't seem to want to work anymore.

Percival stood near the lobby entrance greeting fellow department heads and making small talk about Congress. Outside he was smiling, at least he thought he was because, on the inside, he was suffering. He desperately disliked most of the other department heads and found himself wishing some security matter would present itself and he could bail on the gala.

His wish never came to fruition, instead, he stood there in his tuxedo probing the minds of everyone who passed him as a means of entertainment. Marcus Minus was having an affair, Clara Harris was clearly lying about inheriting a fortune and Lawrence Conway drummed up some vulgar images of Anora Greene in his mind.

He checked his watch for the time, 10 PM. As he tucked the watch back into his pocket he caught a glimpse of Angelica Versal making her way towards him. She wore a long black beaded dress and grinned as she approached him.

“What do you think of my new dress?” She asked twirling in front of him.

“Quite lovely. Glad you decided to come although… you seem to be short an angry Scottish woman.” He noted.

“She is here I promise. She’s… hiding in the ladies' room.” Angelica admitted, hooking her arm with his and guiding him through the elaborately decorated lobby.

“How old are you Mr. Graves?” She asked boldly, he looked over at her suspiciously.

“Thirty-five.” He answered, curious to see where the conversation would head. It wasn’t too difficult to guess, Angelica’s mind was not as shielded as Miss Matasen’s. ‘He’s probably old enough to be our father Ang.’ he could hear his secretary as she scolded the brunette. ‘I’ve not met your father, but if he looks like your boss, well, call me mummy.’ She teased back.

“She owes me money,” Angelica said victoriously, mostly to herself.

“Mr. Graves, are you married?” Angelica asked boldly, Percival suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and just as he was about to respond, he stopped himself and walked away not knowing what else to do.

“Mr. Graves?” Angelica called out as he tried to disappear into the crowd. He found himself a quiet corner and decided that is where he would stay, he spotted several people he could use as scapegoats if Miss Versal found him and began her straightforward interrogation of him.

He watched the other witches and wizards socialize from his safe spot on the wall when he felt a presence beside him. When he looked over he saw Miss Matasen standing next to him, hands folded in front of her looking just as uncomfortable as he did.

“Miss Matasen.” He acknowledged before looking away. His brain took much longer than his eyes to process the sight of her, so much so that after a few awkward moments his face snapped back towards her in such a way she was startled.

Miss Matasen was wearing an elegant emerald green dress with black lace detailing and hundreds of gold and black beads. Her hair was longer than he remembered it being but styled in a sophisticated bob cut with a black beaded brooch on one side. She stared at him with furrowed brows trying to understand his shock.

“Mister Graves, are you having a stroke?” She asked, moving slightly from her spot along the wall to place a hand on his arm.

“No, no.” He assured her immediately, regaining his composure. 

“You look beautiful Miss Matasen.” He said next, the softness with which he said it surprised him and next to him his secretary began turning a delicate shade of pink. 

They stood silently next to each other before he offered to get them drinks. As he walked towards the refreshments he pulled slightly on his collar, not remembering when the room had become so warm or when his heart had begun beating rapidly.

On his way back, with two glasses of champagne in hand, he could see Miss Matasen had inched her way down the wall, most likely trying to avoid conversations with people she did not care for. Her luck had seemed to run out though and she looked to be in pain as one of the lads from the Wizarding Resources Department had trapped her in a conversation.

“Mr. Ginsberg, how is everything? I trust your boys got a handle on that case of Spattergroit out in Queens.” Percival interrupted. Ginsberg looked over at him with dagger-like eyes, Percival knew it was because his team had not been able to locate the wizard who was spreading the disease.

“Mr. Graves, if you don’t mind I’m having a conversation.” Mr. Ginsberg pointed out. 

“Oh yes, of course, here you are Miss Matasen.” Percival said handing the young woman her glass of champagne and stepping closer to her.

“I see you have met my secretary.” Percival said to Mr. Ginsberg who appeared to be growing rather annoyed.

“Your secretary.” He repeated.

“Yes, she is uncharacteristically skilled in curses and hexes.” Percival added, he truthfully had no idea if Miss Matasen excelled in those types of magic but he wanted Mr. Ginsberg to go away and his bold comment seemed to work as the other man bid them both farewell and took off quickly.

“My hero.” Miss Matasen teased as she took a sip of her champagne.

“Curses and hexes?” He asked looking down at her.

“I’ll have you know I passed my NEWTs in Charms with an Outstanding.” She boasted.

“I took you as more of a Potions master.” He admitted.

“Got an Outstanding in that as well.” She said confidently leaning against the wall. 

“That was definitely not my strongest subject. Almost didn't make it as an Auror because of it.” He confided, she smiled at him for the first time, a genuine smile that reminded him of her youthfulness.

“Miss Matasen, it is a fun night. You should be dancing and socializing, not hiding in a corner.” He pointed out, she let out an exasperated sigh as she took another sip from her glass.

“So you’re allowed to hide but I am not?” She questioned pointing out the hypocrisy.

“I am an old man with little tolerance for small talk.” He claimed.

“That is so funny, I too am an old man with little tolerance for small talk.” She teased clinking her glass with his in a mock toast. Her sarcasm and dry humor always brought a smile to his face.

“You are, what, twenty?” He asked.

“You should be living your life Miss Matasen.” He added.

“I am twenty-three Mister Graves and it is hardly a life worth living.” The second half of her statement was said mostly under her breath as she shot back the last of the champagne in her glass. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, but hardly anything got past him.

“Why would you say that?” He asked a deep concern washed over him. How could someone so young be so pessimistic?

“I am not obligated to explain myself to you, Mister Graves. This is a social gathering, not the office.” She shot at him.

“Then how about calling me Percival and explaining it to me as a friend.” He quipped, he hated when she got defensive.

“Bold assumption to think we are friends.” She spat, shoving her empty glass into his hand and beginning to walk away.

“Ettie,” He pleaded, trying to avoid a fight. She quickly turned back at him and with fury in her eyes.

“You do not have the privilege of calling me that.” She barked at him before continuing her escape from him.

He stood there alone feeling stupid and trying to figure out at which point in the conversation he went wrong. Maybe he should have just called her Edith. That would have been a better start perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percival Graves, sexy but bad at talking to women.


	7. Chapter Seven

“Why is your assistant avoiding you?” President Picquery asked through a false smile as she approached Percival. It had been a little over an hour since Miss Matasen had walked away from him in a fit of fury.

“Secretary.” He corrected, taking part in a fake hug she had initiated.

“Whatever.” Picquery shot.

“This is what happens when you force people who work for you to attend fancy parties.” He quipped.

“You probably said something stupid.” She suggested, he shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.

“Do I need to remind you of the rule on workplace romance Mr. Graves?” She said sternly.

“Oh please Phina, don’t start.” He grumbled.

“I am not threatening you.” She insisted.

“Then why bring it up? She is my secretary, nothing more.” He told her quietly, smiling and saying hi as people passed them.

“Because I haven’t seen a woman irritate you that way since… well since me.” She teased with a smile.

“Oh to be seventeen again.” He said with a smile and brought his lips to her ear.

“I would push you off the central school tower if given a second chance.” He whispered to her before pulling away with the biggest smile he could muster. Picquery chortled with a large smile before quickly returning to her serious demeanor and walking away from him.

Percival frowned in annoyance, he hated the way Picquery held their past over him. Whatever feelings he once held for the ambitious witch died while they were still at school together. Yet somehow, nearly twenty years later they still bickered like did the day it ended.

He made his way to the doors seeking an escape, he knew Picquery would kill him if he went home for the night. However, she never mentioned anything about him getting some fresh air. He stepped out into the cold December night and took a deep breath, the air was sharp and stung his lungs. He reached into his pocket, feeling for his cigarettes when a familiar sight caught his eye.

Across the street, sitting on the park bench staring at the folded hands in her lap sat Miss Matasen. She sat without her coat, visibly cold but too stubborn to go back inside for it. He let out a sigh and crossed the street, slipping out of his tuxedo jacket and draping it around her shoulders as he stood beside the bench. She looked up at him with angry eyes. 

“You are not the first woman to hate me Miss Matasen.” He assured her as he lit a cigarette. 

“I don’t hate you.” She said, looking out into the street as she slid both arms into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Huh, well that is a first.” He joked.

“Hufflepuffs are loyal, almost to a fault.” She added.

“Was that your house at school?” He asked, she nodded.

“Wampus.” He enunciated. She laughed at the silliness of the name.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” She asked.

“Not really, but since we were sharing.” He offered, she laughed again. Somewhere in the night, a No-Maj had turned up their radio, the sounds of gentle jazz emanated through the sharp cold air.

Percival took a last long drag from his cigarette and tossed it into the snow before holding out his hand to Miss Matasen. She looked up at him, unsure of what he was doing.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, she chuckled in disbelief.

“I am not dancing with you in the street.” She informed him.

“Oh, okay, then you owe me a dance once we head back inside.” He told her assuming that she would rather go blind than dance in a room full of strangers. She looked at him flabbergasted before slapping her hand into his and getting up from the bench.

He took her waist, pulling her close but still keeping a respectable distance. His other hand held one of hers and she gently placed her free hand on his chest, his jacket sleeves so long that all but her fingers met the cold wind. She moved awkwardly and he laughed.

“That is not how you dance to jazz.” He told her.

“I only know how to waltz.” She admitted as he began guiding her steps. Her eyes tried to focus on each step they took.

“Don’t look at your feet. You should know better if you waltz.” He teased, she sighed in frustration.

“Where else am I supposed to look?” She asked with her usual sass.

“Look at me.” He instructed but when she did her face turned red and her eyes darted back to her feet. He couldn’t believe his eyes, she was embarrassed and it made him laugh.

“I don’t like being laughed at.” She seethed.

“I am not laughing at you, I am laughing because of you. There is a big difference.” He teased, she turned her face from his, no longer wanting to look at him.

“Hey,” He said, taking his hand from hers and using two fingers to turn her chin and make her face him. She looked at him with her usual intensity.

“I am sorry I upset you. I am sorry for all the times I upset you.” He meant it and from the hold of their eyes, he knew she understood that he was sincere. Somewhere in the moment, they had stopped dancing and Percival found himself yearning in a way he hadn’t for some time.

There in the last few hours of moonlight, on the doorsteps of a new year, he found himself wanting to succumb to long-dormant desire. To touch lips with an infuriating creature who somehow crept her way into the depths of the cave where he had laid hidden for so long.

In the silence the distance between them had been greatly reduced, her chest pressed so close to his that he thought perhaps their heartbeats would synchronize at any moment. Their noses mere centimetres apart.

“Mister Graves,” She whispered breathlessly. She firmly pressed her hands against his chest and slowly pushed herself out of his grasp.

In the intensity of the moment, in the closeness of their bodies, her mind had opened to him and waves of grief and sadness spilled forward; so much pain and hurt. But something else had happened while he peeked inside, she had caught him looking. At the moment she pulled away from him, he also felt her push him out of her thoughts and erect a mountain between them.

“It is rude to enter places you are not wanted.” She reminded him, taking a few small steps away from him.

“It was not intentional. Again, I am sorry.” Percival knew she probably didn’t believe him anymore but he had no intention of using Occlumency on her, it sort of just happened.

In the distance, a church bell chimed. Ten minutes to midnight. Her face had returned to its usual adversarial manner and she gave him back his jacket and made for the entrance to headquarters. He followed behind her keeping his distance so as to not upset her any further.

In the final minutes of the year, Percival was handed a glass of champagne and as everyone around him counted down the last few seconds and held their glasses up high, he caught a glimpse of Edith standing with Angelica and Queenie. Edith turned her head, eyes connecting with his and as everyone around them shouted ‘Happy New Year’ he raised his glass ever so slightly to her.

She raised her glass back to him. At least he hadn’t completely ruined their standing with each other. He hoped that the days to come would not be uncomfortable but that seemed unlikely as the thought of her body so close to his played over in his mind. Was he just caught in the moment? Did he too boldly push his young secretary towards something she did not want?

He supposed only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammarly kept giving me the little sad emoji face and dress shirt to let me know that my readers may take my writing as sad but formal. I honestly enjoyed writing this chapter way too much and for one reason: THEY ARE SO CLOSE BUT STILL SO VERY FAR.


	8. Chapter Eight

January of nineteen-twenty-four was more difficult than he could have imagined. Not because his workload had become incredibly burdensome or unmanageable. No, it was because whatever hint of respect he had earned from Edith over the last eight months had been tossed out the window. She had gone back to being the iceberg of a woman he had hired. 

No morning newspaper, no coffee, no tea on late nights, and dead silence when he offered to treat her to lunch. During the second week of the year, he had arrived at his office to find an envelope on his desk with his name written on it in Edith’s handwriting. Inside the envelope, the exact amount of money he had given her to purchase the dresses she and Angelica had worn to the gala.

She did not completely ignore him, no, that would interfere with work and if there was one thing Edith Matasen showed any care for, it was her work. Percival thought it best if he too slipped back into his old routine and put the events of the gala behind him. He wasn’t even sure what had come over him, not the faintest clue where his sudden desire to feel her body so close to his had come from. 

Besides, he was twelve years her senior. And he was her boss. No, there would be none of that inappropriateness that others like Marcus Minus and Van Ginsberg delighted in. Yet Percival couldn’t stop thinking of the delicate way her clothes sat upon her body at all times, or how desperately he wanted to hold her face within his hands.

It was not until February that his frustration came to a head. While taking a smoking break outside he overheard a conversation several other men from MACUSA were having that caused his temper to flare quite violently

“Alright boys, take your pick. Say you could have any of the dames we work with, which would it be.” Van Ginsberg asked with his usual devilish smirk.

“Ohhh, Queenie absolutely. A girl like that already knows all your darkest secrets.” A junior Auror responded quickly with a chuckle.

“Linda Kimble. That one has legs for days.” Another wizard chimed in.

“What about you Marcus?” Ginsberg asked.

“Need I remind you that I am happily married.” He boasted before breaking out into a laugh with the other men.

“What about you Larry? I hear your eyes are all on Minnie Balfour these days.” Ginsberg laughed.

“Ah, she’s too much of a tease. Now, Miss Matasen, she’s a looker.” Larry Conway said. The mention of Edith caused Percivals to perk up and pay closer attention to the men standing not too far from him.

“She’s a prude.” Van Ginsberg claimed.

“Good luck breaking down that stone wall.” Another chimed in.

“I like a good challenge. Besides… I have to know… Does the carpet match the drapes? I bet she’s a minx when she wants to be.” He teased. Percival’s nostrils flared and he tossed his cigarette aside before turning around and making his presence known to others. They all appeared to recoil into themselves.

No less than twenty minutes later he was marching into his office slightly disheveled with bloody knuckles and President Picquery angrily running after him with two Aurors accompanying Lawrence Conway who held his head back, hand clutching his bloody nose.

“Mister Graves?” Edith asked as he passed her desk followed by this most unusual parade. Picquery slammed his office door behind her, keeping the young witch away and throwing up a silencing charm on the room.

“What is wrong with you two!?” She shouted at him as Percival stood facing a long-forgotten corner of his office. Lawrence Conway was sitting in one of his chairs with one Aurors on each side of him.

“One of you better start talking or so help me I will,” Picquery bellowed.

“Or what? You’ll execute us?” Percival asked sarcastically. Lawrence’s face went whiter than it already was.

“I… I don’t want to be executed.” He said seeming to believe that his offense was serious enough to warrant it.

“Don’t start with me, Percival! What were you thinking, starting a fight in broad daylight in front of hundreds of No-Maj’s.” She scolded.

“I didn’t use any magic.” He defended, trying to keep his anger below the surface.

“No, you just socked me in the face a couple of times.” Lawrence mentioned, still holding his bleeding nose.

“You deserved it,” Percival noted. Picquery looked up at the ceiling in utter frustration.

“Mr. Conway,” She started more calmly. 

“Tell me why the Head of Security found it so necessary to get into a brawl with you.” Picquery inquired with just the right amount of sharpness. Lawrence sat in his seat quietly, trying to find the right path to take.

“I… I may have made a remark about a member of his staff.” He tried, hoping that was enough to make him seem innocent in the incident.

“Do you care to share more Mr. Conway?” Picquery probed further.

“... It was Miss Matasen, Madame President.” He stammered. 

“Oh really?” She questioned with a wicked smile looking over at Percival who continued to keep his back towards them and focus on the corner of the office.

“And um, what was it that you said, Mr. Conway.” Picquery continued to push. 

“I-i-i may have made some crude remarks about… about whether her… ummm.” He was struggling.

“Mr. Conway.” Picquery pressed.

“It was of an inappropriate nature Madame President and I am terribly sorry.” He squeaked. Picquery backed off.

“Mr. Conway, are you telling me that you made sexual comments about an employee of this building, no less an employee who works for one of the most senior officials?” She asked, seeking clarification but also wanting to watch both men squirm.

“Yes ma’am,” Lawrence answered quickly. Picquery let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against Percival’s desk motioning for the two Aurors to escort Mr. Conway to the infirmary. As they left and closed the door behind, Picquery looked over at Percival who hadn’t moved the slightest.

“I would yell at you more but I think I am more intrigued than angry.” She admitted crossing her arms. Percival finally turned to look at Picquery, his face sullen and annoyed simultaneously.

“No more fighting Percival.” That was all she added before taking down the silencing charm and leaving. Through the frosted glass, he could see Picquery stop briefly to say something to Edith as she returned to her desk from places unknown. Percival let out a heavy sigh and sat at his desk looking down at his bloody knuckles.

“Mister Graves?” A soft voice called out. He looked up to find Edith had opened his door with a concerned look and a rag in her hand. He sat back in his seat and gestured for her to enter and she did so closing the door behind her. 

In the silence, she took one of his chairs and moved it behind the desk next to him. He watched as one hand at a time, she used the rag, which was cold and damp, to wipe the blood away.

“Well, at least none of it is your blood.” She said breaking the silence as she passed the rag over his hands one last time and finding not a scratch on them. He smiled weakly at her, pulling his hands away to move around the papers on his desk. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, and when he looked over at her still sitting in the other chair facing him, he found her eyes glued to the bloody rag in her hands. Picquery told her. How much she told her, he didn’t know. He pursed his lips trying to find something to say but before he could she stood and headed for the door.

“Tea?” She asked.

“Please.” He said softly and she left in one swift movement. He felt a stirring in his heart, a sharp pain that stung sweetly. Edith would be the absolute death of him and he was certain that he didn’t really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is always so difficult trying to name side characters. I named Lawrence Conway after one of my favorite black and white film actors: Tom Conway, who played a detective by the name of Tom Lawrence aka the Falcon in ten films throughout the 1940s.


	9. Chapter Nine

Purchasing flowers was not something Percival did often. It was a dreadful errand that he did because he loved the smile flowers brought to his mother's face. However, buying flowers for her turned out to not be as painful as it was for Edith. Why was he buying her flowers? Well, it was March.

Exactly one year ago Miss Edith Matasen had begun working as his secretary and to show his appreciation for all her hard work he thought it would be nice to get her some flowers. He thought it would be an easy task, his mother loved roses and so he always bought her roses.

So naturally, when he arrived at the flower shop he gravitated towards the roses. It was only when the shopkeeper had begun asking the usual questions that Percival found himself completely lost in a sea of floral bouquets.

“Ah, roses. The Mrs is sure to love them, sir.” The shopkeeper said while approaching him. Percival immediately put the bouquet he was looking at down.

“Oh, no I am not married.” He quickly responded.

“I see, then how about these lilies. Perfect for a sweetheart.” The shopkeeper offered, as he walked him over to some more flowers.

“Much less romantic.” Percival informed him. The shopkeeper looked at him with a hint of annoyance.

“Sir, perhaps if I knew who these flowers were meant for I could better assist you.” The shopkeeper said plainly.

“A friend?” He inquired, trying to get Percival to divulge any helpful information.

“My secretary. She has worked for me exactly one year today.” Percival informed the elderly man.

“Ah, so flowers that say friendship.” The shopkeeper concluded, bringing Percival over to the sunflowers. He scrunched his face in disapproval.

“Not the right fit?” The shopkeeper asked.

“They are… cheerful.” Percival announced. The shopkeeper looked around in confusion, trying to understand exactly what his customer was looking for.

“Sir, all flowers are meant to bring cheer unless you are purchasing flowers for the dead.” The shopkeeper tried to rationalize.

“Perhaps I’ll just keep looking around.” Percival offered, realizing they were getting nowhere. The shopkeeper went back behind the counter to finish wrapping up some orders as Percival analyzed every flower on display.

Percival stopped at a table with dainty blueish purple flowers in one vase and thistle in another, both were far from impressive but the combination seemed perfect to him. Like the flowers, Edith was delicate and had such a fragile beauty to her. But like the thistle, she was blunt and almost inhospitable.

He informed the shopkeeper that he had made his decision and the elderly man wrapped up a dozen stems of the delicate flowers and intermixed three thistle stems among them. A long strand of twine held them together as Percival felt adding any more embellishments would ruin the simplicity and sincerity of the arrangement.

He was thankful that his coat had inner pockets to stash the flowers in as he headed into headquarters. The embarrassment had suddenly washed over him as he apparated into the park across the street and he did not want to be seen carrying a bouquet. He tried very hard in the elevator to not crush them as people crowded around him in the typical morning rush.

As he stepped off the elevator he spotted the empty chair at Edith’s desk and was grateful that she had not yet arrived. He looked around making sure he was alone before removing the flowers from his coat and placing them on her desk, casting a quick spell to spruce them back up. Just as he was fiddling with the twine he heard footsteps behind him.

“Mister Graves.” Edith announced and he turned slowly to greet her.

“Miss Matasen, good morning.” He said standing up straight.

“These are… for you.” He presented, holding a hand out to the flowers on her desk. She smiled softly and picked them up touching the violet-blue petals.

“Hope is like a harebell.” She said softly, looking at the flowers.

“Sorry?” He asked, the comment making no sense to him.

“It’s just a poem, sir.” She answered, nodding her head as if to brush it off.

“Is there more to it?” He asked, her eyebrows furrowed curiously.

“Umm, yeah. It is um… a,” She seemed to be searching her mind until finally, she found all the words.

“Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth,

Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth,

Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white,

Love is like a lovely rose, the world’s delight.

Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,

But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.” He stared at her longer than he probably should have because she started to turn pink under his gaze.

“These used to grow all around my home in Scotland.” She added quickly trying to ease the awkwardness.

“Used to?” He questioned.

“Uh, yeah, my mother stopped caring for them and they sort of just died.” She admitted placing them back on her desk but her face seemed to regret what she had said. 

“They are lovely, thank you.” She said next looking at him sincerely. 

“Thank you, for everything you do.” He responded giving her a smile and retreating into his office.

Perhaps like the harebell, he was full of hope but more fragile than he thought. Perhaps like the rose, she was full of love but far too protected to grab hold of. Their faith, their lily, a flag on the ship that guided them down whatever path this world had laid out for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several notes about this chapter. I had a really hard time trying to figure out what type of flowers Percival would give Edith. I ended up thinking about flowers native to Scotland as a possible choice, and him picking them without actually knowing that they grew in her home country; a way of showing that he could be so connected to her without realizing it. I actually had no intention of inserting a poem into this chapter but while researching Scottish Bluebells/Harebells I found this poem. English poet Christina Rossetti wrote, “Hope Is Like a Harebell” in the second half of the 1800s.


	10. Chapter Ten

April brought with it a surge in cases of Great Plains Fever. The illness, which was common amongst wizards in the heartland had found its way into New York via a sick Wizard illegally smuggling a Nogtail to his sister in Syracuse. Needless to say, it became a nuisance when it spread quickly across the city and into MACUSA itself.

While non-lethal, those who caught the ailment suffered for days with fever-induced hallucinations and coughs. Those who had caught it in childhood fared much better than those who caught it as adults. What made it so virulent is that witches and wizards who first got sick as children rarely ever showed symptoms when they caught it again.

Much to his dismay, President Picquery felt it necessary to send Percival up to Syracuse to handle the wizard responsible for the spread as well as to undo the damage to the No-Maj communities affected by the curse of the Nogtail. 

Normally he would have no quarrels about this type of extended overnight case but in the past, Mrs. Caddersom had always accompanied him as part of her job duties. This meant that he would now have to take Edith along, and he was beginning to dread being alone with her.

The trip would at least take the weekend and meant that they would have to take up lodgings somewhere. The train ride was also fairly long, Madame President had strict rules against flying in and out of the city. All that time alone together was bound to get him into some kind of trouble with her.

“Do I have a choice?” Edith asked as he requested her presence for the weekend.

“No, not really.” He answered.

“I’ll have to get Queenie to let Laroco back in on Sunday morning.” She informed him as she grabbed her coat from her chair and followed him to the elevator.

“Laroco?” Percival inquired, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of another man's name.

“My cat, Mister Graves.” She sighed, seeming to pick up on the fear as they took the elevator to the lobby.

“He doesn’t like being cooped up inside for long but I can’t leave the windows open because of all those bloody pigeons.” She exclaimed rather frustrated.

“Do you have something against pigeons, Miss Matasen?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Just filthy things.” She shivered thinking about the birds.

“Right,” He looked at her curiously. Of all the things a person could dislike, she hated pigeons.

“Our train leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning. You will need to meet me at Grand Central Station no later than 8:00.” He instructed her as he exited the elevator and she trailed behind him.

“I don’t know where that is.” She announced as they left the building and stood upon the sidewalk together.

“Seriously?” He asked, turning to her. Miss Matasen stood very firmly and gave him her usual ‘don’t mock me’ face.

“I will come to get you at 7:50 exactly. It would do me no good to have you splinched in the wrong alleyway.” He advised her. 

“Thank you.” She said as he began to head towards the park.

“Mister Graves.” She called to him with some annoyance in her voice, he stopped again, turning to look at her.

“You don’t know where I live.” She pointed out, and to this, he just smiled and held out his arm for her. She looped her arm with his and they walked further into the park before she apparated them onto a dark street.

The buildings here were dilapidated and grey, the sidewalks filthy with waste and as they rounded the corner he could make out the street names Ludlow and Broome. In the early evening hours many of the businesses Percival saw were closing up for the day; their signs and faces foreign. 

They walked one block before turning another corner onto an unnamed street where unaccompanied children played, some barefoot, in the light of the lamps along the sidewalk. He held her closer as a shady looking man passed them, his face scared and unsettling.

“7:50 then?” She confirmed as she stopped in front of a precarious-looking building. Clothes hung from lines that stretched to the other side of the street, somewhere in the distance a baby was crying and two men argued in a language he could not translate while a woman laughed.

“7:50.” He confirmed, as she slipped her arm from his and headed up the front steps of the building.

“Miss Matasen.” He called out after her and she stopped halfway through the door.

“Are any of these windows your?” He asked, pointing up.

“Yes sir.” She answered confused.

“I’ll be here to see that you’ve made it up.” He informed her, she gave him a quizzical look before nodding her head and disappearing into the building.

He stood out on the sidewalk for a few minutes before he heard the sound of a window being forced open and Miss Matasen appear within the frame. She looked down at him with slight annoyance but also with a suppressed smile. 

“Goodnight Mister Graves.” She whispered down at him.

“Goodnight.” He returned, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and heading back the way they had come. She probably thought he was being overprotective and perhaps she was right but until this moment it never crossed his mind that she would be living in tenement housing on the Lower East Side. 

It was one of the areas the Wizarding Resource Department advised witches and wizards from abroad to avoid, due to persistent No-Maj crimes like pickpocketing and muggings and was a hotbed for the magical black market. Still, she had probably lived there since she first immigrated to the country and was clearly capable of taking care of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lower East Side of Manhattan was actually very notorious for its tenement housing in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The living conditions were awful and this was typically a result of thousands of immigrants coming in from Europe seeking affordable housing or living with family members in already crowded homes. Books like ‘How the Other Half Live’ published in 1890 by Jacob Riis was one of the first instances of photojournalism causing a social change in the area of Urban Development. However, as with most things, it took decades for things to get better. The Lower East Side is currently home to the Tenement Museum which showcases the living conditions of people over 100+ years of the city's history. I used a lot of information from here to write up the inside of Edith’s apartment which will show up in a later chapter.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Percival got up early the next morning and tossed some things into a leather suitcase before heading towards Edith’s apartment. The neighborhood was already bustling before 8 AM with hundreds of pushcarts on the street with all kinds of goods for sale.

“You look miserable.” Edith noted as she walked down the steps of her building to meet him on the sidewalk a small luggage case in one hand.

“I skipped dinner last night and I haven’t had my coffee this morning.” He grumbled as some children ran past him.

“Come on. I’ll buy you a coffee.” She said taking his arm and pulling him down the street towards Delancy.

“We have a train to catch.” He reminded her.

“Exactly. I am not going anywhere with you until you’ve had coffee.” She informed him. 

After Delancy, they walked three more blocks before entering a delicatessen on the corner of Ludlow and Houston. The place was fairly busy, people shouting over one another in the morning rush. Edith however, did not seem phased by any of this and she pushed her way towards the counter with him in tow. 

“Saba.” She called out to an elderly gentleman behind the counter who suddenly stopped everything he was doing and with the utmost joy came over, taking her face in both hands and placing a kiss on her cheek. 

The elderly man said something in an indistinguishable language and let out a hearty laugh. Edith spoke back to him in his foreign tongue and placed one-fourth Dragot into his hand. 

The man quickly tucked them into his apron pocket and placed a finger to his lips before he went about pulling, seemingly from nowhere, two paper cups that appeared to fill with coffee on their own. 

He held one of Edith’s hands in his own while they exchanged a few more words and he bid her farewell with a kiss on her hand. She grabbed one cup, handing one to Percival and then her own as they headed back out onto the street.

“I didn’t know you could speak Hebrew.” Percival said as they walked towards an alleyway.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Mister Graves.” She acknowledged.

“Uh-huh. And the blatant use of magic in front of the No-Majs?” He asked sipping his coffee and holding out his arm for her.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” She insisted with a straight face, ignoring the fact that he just watched them exchange wizard money and use magic to summon drinks in a room full of non-wizards. She took hold of his arm and he gave her an irritated look before apparating them in an alley alongside several towering buildings.

She held tightly to his arm as they traversed the sea of people entering and exiting the station. How either one of them managed to keep all the coffee in their cups was anyone’s guess. He stopped at one of the ticket counters and requested two tickets for the 8:30 train to Syracuse. The gentleman behind the counter took his money and provided them with two tickets.

Percival guided Edith through the terminal with a gentle hand on the small of her back, navigating its corridors and crowds. The young witch for some reason seemed to be fascinated by the station's ceiling and he had to all but drag her along and remind her that their train would be leaving shortly and tossing their empty cups into a bin nearby.

They boarded the train, Percival graciously taking her bag after handing their tickets to the conductor. They were led to a cabin with a single sofa on one side and a table on the other. He placed their bags on the overhead rack and slid the compartment door closed behind them and drew the privacy curtain. 

Edith sat next to the window and much to his surprise as the train pulled out of the station at exactly 8:30, she moved closer to glass taking in the dark tunnels and eventually the ever-growing city. She looked almost childlike and as if knowing he was looking at her she felt the need to explain herself.

“I haven’t been on a train since school.” She said looking over at him, he just gave her a small smile and sat back in his seat as the train rattled along.

Around 9:00 a gentleman had come by asking if they required anything and handing them a menu. When the gentleman came back around he ordered a club sandwich for himself, a salmon sandwich for Edith, two fruit and cream parfaits, a cup of English Breakfast, and a pot of coffee.

“You can’t keep changing my orders and paying for my meals.” She informed him as she nibbled on her sandwich several minutes later.

“You always order toast.” He pointed out dropping three cubes of sugar into his cup and pouring coffee from the carafe.

“Besides, have I ever ordered something you didn’t like?” He questioned, she looked at him sharply out the corner of her eyes. He knew he was right.

“That isn’t the point.” She said, putting down her sandwich and sipping on her tea.

“Oh? What was the point then?” He inquired.

“You eat out for lunch every day and presumably every night. Do you even know how to cook?” She asked with a smirk on her face. Percival thought about it for a moment.

“I can burn eggs. Does that count?” He asked. She let out a squeal as he’d never heard before, it was rather cute.

“Only child I presume?” She asked.

“And my mother’s favorite person.” He added with a smile. She shook her head at him with a smirk still on her face but it quickly faded as some thought seemed to consume her and she quickly took another bite of her sandwich.

“Do you miss her?” Percival asked, he had known for a while now that she had lost her mother in recent years. A fact that her school friend Angelica had accidentally divulged to him around the holidays.

“Miss is… a subjective term.” She said steadily, taking another sip of her tea. She no longer tried making eye contact with him.

“She was a difficult woman to love.” Edith added.

“I am sure she meant well.” Percival tried to assure.

“Not for me.” She said coldly.

“Are both your parents' wizards?” She asked him suddenly, looking into his eyes with icy rage building behind her own.

“Yes.” He responded.

“My mother was a muggle but she loved my father, at least she did at one time. She was convinced he had sold his soul for his magic and I was just like him, some unholy beast who had the blood of the devil inside.” She had turned away now, looking straight into her cup with all this weight upon her shoulders and stray tears rolling down her face.

“It’s fine though.” She said, wiping her face with her hands.

“I still have, had. I had Eunan.” She said. The correction hadn’t slipped past him, she had started that last sentence in the present tense and quickly caught herself.

“Is there anyone waiting for you back home in Scotland?” He asked as gently as he could. She just stared out the window as the sunny April morning zoomed by.

“Not for some time.” She admitted. His heart sunk at this, this was why she had not returned to Europe for the holidays. There were no letters from family arriving for her weekly. No one who would be there waiting at the door with loving hugs upon her return.

He didn’t know who Eunan was, but he knew that he, like her mother and probably like her father, was no longer present on this Earth. He wondered exactly how many of those closest to her she had lost.

For once, he felt like he understood her better. She was dedicated to her work because she had nothing else to care for. He was the same, but his loneliness was a choice, while hers was thrust upon her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look back at him.

“You have Angelica.” He reminded her and at this, she smiled clearly trying to hold back more tears.

“And whether you like it or not, you also have Queenie.” He pointed out to which she laughed loudly. Queenie already had a sister, but both of their hearts were full of love, evidenced by Queenie’s repeated attempts to drag Edith out of her shell.

He wanted to let her know that she also had him. His heart had grown so accustomed to her presence that he suddenly couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. However, it never felt like the right moment. The last time he moved so boldly she was mad at him for weeks.

He wasn’t even sure she felt the same longing he did. Was she too damaged to give her heart to anyone, let alone to him? And after all, what was he? A nearly forty-year-old man, married to his work. What could he truly offer her? Hundreds of panic-filled nights where she stayed up waiting for him to come home safely. That was not the life she deserved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I really have to admit, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW the DRAGOT AND SPRINK WORK. So I totally made it up and am hoping for the best. I like to think that the American wizarding scene is much more integrated into areas like NYC, unlike its European counterpart London, especially in the early 1900s. Immigrant witches and wizards working alongside muggles in grocery stores and delis who will drop everything to cater to those just like them. It is very segmented, everyone looking out for their own which is what New York City was during the 1920s and so much of that is quintessential New York to this day. I also really do enjoy looking at old menus when researching what they should be eating. The New York Public Library actually has a massive online archive of menus from the 1850s to present.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve!! Keep your eyes open for Chapter 13 which I will be posting tomorrow. As a gift to you all, Chapter 13 will be... sexy, to say the least, but far from where things will be going. For now, enjoy Chapter 12 and as always, please leave feedback.

The train ride to Syracuse proved to be more difficult than Percival had expected, not for him, but for Edith. She had begun to get very nauseous by the time the train had pulled into Westchester, so much so that she decided, much to his irritation, to pace in the corridor outside of their cabin in an effort to alleviate the feelings of sickness. Just prior to stopping in Poughkeepsie he demanded she sit down and ordered her a pot of peppermint tea and ginger candies.

“If you keep pacing like that you will actually vomit.” Percival informed her as he poured the tea into a cup for her while she sat next to him like an annoyed child.

“I forgot how sick I get on these machines.” She replied shoving a handful of the candies into her mouth.

“How did you survive the train to school?” He questioned, not really seeking an answer.

“With my head in a bucket.” She replied honestly, sipping the tea with candy still in her mouth.

“That’s how I met Angelica. I got so sick on the train in first year; she held my hair while I vomited into her luggage.” Edith said with some nostalgia in her voice, to this Percival just chuckled. 

“A true sign of everlasting friendship.”He added.

“I am not letting you vomit in my bag though, so drink up and get some rest.” He instructed her, opening up a muggle newspaper he had bought from the gentleman who delivered the tea.

“I can’t sleep with all this moment.” She whined. He looked over at her with an annoyed look splayed across his face. 

“I will cast a sleeping charm on you.” He threatened, she sighed and leaned her back against the window glaring at him as he turned back to the newspaper. She was asleep in less than twenty minutes, her head resting against the window.

He wasn’t sure when his attention left his newspaper or when exactly he started watching her but when goosebumps flew across the skin of her arms he placed his coat over her. The action roused her temporarily, just long enough for her to abandon the window and curl up into a ball on the seat and bury herself fully under Percival’s coat.

When the steward passed by ten minutes after that, he asked the gentleman for a pillow, which Percival attempted to place under her head without waking her. She grumpily swatted him away, still half asleep until he finally gave up and let the pillow sit on her head.

He started to doze off himself sometime after that, waking only when Edith had slipped off her shoes and taken hold of the pillow in an attempt to get more comfortable. He didn’t recall Mrs. Caddersom being so irritable on these long haul trips, but the woman could knit for several hours straight without ever leaving her seat.

He actually found it somewhat amusing how every time he opened his eyes the young witch had managed to change her sleeping position. He wondered if it was just the confined space, nausea, or the weight of her inner turmoil that caused her to toss and turn. He wondered if she moved this much at night while she slept alone in her bed.

By the time the train pulled out of Albany the skies had become grey, with rain trailing down the windows of the cabin. He returned to his newspaper and looked over his case file, occasionally looking over at Edith who still slept snuggled under his coat. He stretched, standing occasionally, and stood for a few minutes outside the compartment to smoke a cigarette.

The steward passed again offering to bring a snack for him and Edith whom the gentleman referred to as his Mrs. In the moment, Percival thought of correcting the man as he took a long drag of his cigarette but instead handed the steward some money and asked for another pot of coffee.

“Right away sir.” The steward offered, heading down the train cart and taking requests from other passengers.

Percival thought long about why he hadn’t corrected the No-Maj for referring to Edith as his wife. He could see where the assumption had arisen. For one, they were clearly traveling together, he had ordered breakfast for them both, and she was asleep wrapped up in his coat beside him with a pillow he had requested for her after. 

In a way, it was reassuring to him that he didn’t look old enough to have been mistaken as her father. He looked at his reflection in the corridor window as he finished up his cigarette. This job had caused grey hairs to stake their claim on his head, indifference and exhaustion legible across his face, and while not visible, the scars across his body were a testament to his commitment to keeping the world of magic a secret.

He grabbed the pot of coffee from the steward as he came back around, asked for their expected time of arrival, and slid open the compartment door to reclaim his seat from Edith who had stretched out in his absence. He swatted her legs with the newspaper as he set the pot down on the compartment table and tossed his spent cigarette into the ashtray. She grumbled and returned her legs to the confines of the coat covering her.

A few more hours passed and he gently shook her awake.

“Hey, the train will be pulling in soon.” He told her and she let out a large sigh before sitting up, exhaustion evident on her face, her wavy bob cut disheveled from her frequent movements.

He went back to the paper after she handed him back his coat and brought her legs back under the table to slip on her shoes while attempting to fix her hair to no avail. He watched from just behind the paper as she pulled pins from her hair before giving up and excusing herself to the restroom to find a mirror. 

She stumbled over Percivals feet as the train jerked, causing her to fall into him, crumbling the newspaper he had been holding.

“I was reading that.” He teased, as she pushed herself off of him with a sharp scold before exiting the compartment.

“Bloody trains.” She grumbled as the compartment door slid closed behind her. He enjoyed the physical contact, however brief, and straightened out his pages to continue reading.

She returned shortly afterward, making sure to trip as she scooted past him to return to the window seat. He glanced at her briefly, and then again and brought his newspaper down to the table with a quizzical look.

“What?” She asked nervously.

“When did your hair get so long?” He questioned, noting that she had placed her hair into a long braid that fell over her shoulder and down to her bust.

“It’s always been this long.” She said, running her hand along its length.

“No, it hasn’t.” He claimed.

“Just because you didn’t notice, doesn’t mean it hasn’t.” She pointed out. He furrowed his brows skeptically at her.

“You always have that short cut, it never went past your shoulders.” He reminded her, picking up the paper again.

“That is where you are wrong. It was never that short, it has always been this long and I just put it up that way. You simply don’t understand the complexities of a woman’s hair.” She informed him.

“Why bother putting it up every morning to make it look short? Just cut it.” He tried to rationalize, she just glared at him before turning away with a pout on her face and running both hands repeatedly down the braid.

“It looks nice long.” He commented from behind the newspapers trying to keep any visible hint of attraction from her eyes.

He honestly hated the new trend. Women across the country had begun cutting their hair shorter and shorter; he didn’t mind the ones that fell just above the shoulders, but the shorter the hair, the less he felt he understood the woman. Edith clearly tried to keep up her appearance but took too much pride in her hair to make the drastic decision of cutting it off.

He watched as she confiscated the coffee pot and poured a cup for herself and continued to snack on the ginger candies for the rest of the trip. As the train pulled into the station he helped Edith into her coat and grabbed both of their bags off the overhead rack. 

It was pouring as they stepped off the train in Syracuse and much colder than it had been in Manhattan, they scurried into the station. At the information counter, Percival requested the number for a hotel near Onondaga, a small village just outside of Syracuse where the ill wizard resided with his sister.

As they waited for the information clerk to find them rooms near the village, he carefully surveilled the station, he could help feel that something was off or that perhaps someone was watching him. He looked over at Edith who browsed some of the pamphlets on muggle attractions in the area when he spotted a sinister-looking man peering at her from across the station.

Instinctively, Percival called her over and requested that she stay beside him, a demand that caused her to roll her eyes at her boss but comply nonetheless. The clerk provided them with the address of a small lodge in Onondaga and they left the station.

He hailed them a car outside much to Edith’s displeasure and they climbed in with only some minor resistance from her. Thankfully they only had to stop once for her to climb out and gasp for air after feeling like she might pass out from nausea. 

“You’re fine.” Percival assured her as the car moved down the dirt road.

“I’m going to be sick.” She claimed as she leaned forward with her head between her knees.

“No, you’re not.” He insisted.

“Please make him stop again.” She begged.

“We’re almost there.” He said, rubbing a gentle hand along her back to ease the sickness she felt.

He’d have to remember to pack a calming draught or a draught of peace for her when they were required to take another such trip.

In the lodge, the manager reviewed his guest book and offered Percival a ‘lovely suite’ for the ‘lovely couple’. It was a good thing Edith was sat across the room being handed a glass of water by a maid otherwise she may have scolded the No-Maj.

“She’s my secretary.” He sternly informed the man behind the counter whose lips had tightened as he quickly looked down at this book again, turning a page before letting Percival know that they did have two rooms with a shared bath available. 

Percival paid the manager who then escorted them up a flight of stairs and down a hall, opening both their doors and reminding them to just ask if they needed anything.

In his room, Percival sat on the bed. It wasn't a spectacular lodge, in fact, it was more than a bed and breakfast, but it would do for the weekend. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his watch, and checking the time, almost 4 PM. He’d never been more exhausted by a routine trip. He decided they would start tomorrow, and left his room to knock on Edith’s door.

“Yes?” she asked pulling the door open enough for him to see that her room was almost an exact dreary replica of his.

“Get some rest, we start early tomorrow, 8 AM.” He informed her.

“Yes, Mister Graves.” She said with a tone of relief and gently shut the door, he lingered a moment before calling through the door a reminder to lock it. He heard her feet move across the floor back to the door and engage the lock.

He smiled to himself and went back to his room, locking his door behind him before kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. He sat at the head of the bed and leaned back against the headboard taking a moment to unwind. He closed his eyes trying to ignore the tension in his shoulder and the knots in his back.

It wasn’t long before he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to avoid saying exactly how long the train ride from Manhattan to Syracuse because I could not find any information on how quickly a train would have traveled the distance during the 1920s. It was also tricky finding out whether or not they’d have to transfer in Albany as you are sometimes required to do on Amtrak currently. The average travel time between the two cities in 2020 is about 5-½ hours, I dragged it out to about 6-½ hours, and then with the waiting in the station and the car ride, their trip ends up being about 7 hours.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

Percival wasn’t sure how long he had drifted off for but when he woke he realized he was still in his clothes. Getting up from the bed, he walked over to the bathroom door, opening it with no second thought only to hear a yelp and see Edith pull her robe over her nightgown in some attempt at modesty.

“I told you to lock the doors!” He shouted looking quickly down at the floor.

“The front door!” She reminded him.

“I didn’t know we were sharing.” She defended, and she was right, she wasn’t present at the desk when the manager had given them the rooms.

“Why would there be another door in a bathroom?” He questioned, trying to get her to see his point.

“I thought you were a closet.” She scolded, out of the corner of his eyes he could see her pull on her flannel robe and bring the two ends together to cover herself more.

“Why would a closet have a deadbolt on the outside?” He asked, looking at her and pointing to the lock on the door that was meant to keep the occupant of the other room out.

She had no answer for him, she just gave him her usual unyielding look and grabbed her hairbrush from the bath vanity and fled to her room slamming the door behind her before quickly reentering to grab a towel for her soaking wet hair and making another dramatic exit. 

He was just thankful he caught her at the end of her bath when she was already clothed and not during it. He wasn’t sure either one of them would have survived it. He quickly washed his face before heading back to his room and undressing until he was in just his boxer shorts.

He got into the bed and lay down properly this time staring at the ceiling trying to keep his mind off the image of Edith in her nightgown. 

It was a rather simple garb; white cotton with a boat neckline and cap sleeves, the gown falling just below her knees but the dangerous part was how parts of it clung to her curves because of the dampness of her freshly washed skin and long dripping hair… well, needless to say, all of it aroused him in the most unbecoming way.

How desperately he tried to push the image from his mind but instead he found himself unable to sleep, only wishing to part the sweet lips of her mouth and have her taste his growing hardness. How much he craved the feeling of her supple skin. How badly he wished to have her delicate frame beneath him gasping for air as he pleasured her.

The thoughts had become too much for him and climbed out of bed, heading back to the bath and with a wave of his hand ensuring both doors were locked. He turned on the shower, pulled off his underwear, and stepped into the stream of ice-cold water. With his face turned up towards the ceiling, he let one hand wrap around his painfully swollen manhood. 

He let out a slow steady breath as he began to stroke himself, trying to think of women he had previously bedded as to avoid drumming up obscene images of the young witch asleep in the next room. Percival’s efforts were in vain, after nearly twenty minutes in the shower, none of the thoughts of his past lovers was enough for him to find release.

He ran his fingers through his hair and breathed sharply through his nose in frustration. He stood like that for a few minutes before taking a firm hold of his cock and taking a deep breath. He let the image of Edith in her nightgown fill his mind. 

The delicate way her collarbone showed above the neckline, how her wet hair clung to the skin of her neck, the deliciousness of her damp nightgown perfectly exposing the shape of her breast. How perfectly her breast would fit into his mouth, he thought as he quickened his strokes.

He mapped out all the paths he could take from her neck to her navel if she were with him in the shower and pictured beads of water trickling down her thighs as he would undoubtedly be brought to his knees in his desire to taste her. He moaned as quietly as he could as he began to furiously beat his aching flesh.

He wanted, no he NEEDED her. He was sure of it, he needed Edith more than he needed anything else before. It wasn’t just lust, it was some deep emotional need to have her beside him, to be sure she was safe and protected by him, and dealing with her rage and fury for thinking she was unable to take care of herself. His breathing labored as he felt himself close to his release.

He wanted her to fill all the empty spaces that existed in his life while simultaneously filling her with his seed to make it possible. He gripped himself tighter as he stroked himself into a frenzy imagining her wet heat enveloping him, it was too much to bear until finally after numerous aggressive strokes he found release.

He held a hand against the shower wall to steady himself as the other milked that last of his desire from him. As he held his now spent member a wave of regret washed over him. 

Regret about fantasizing of Edith in such an audacious way. Regret at finally admitting to himself how deeply he cared for her. The regret was quickly replaced by misery because Percival knew that his position at MACUSA was a lifetime commitment that would only end one of two ways; in his forced removal by someone younger or even more likely, his inevitable death.

He washed up, dried off, put on clean boxer shorts, and threw himself on the bed praying for sleep to finally take hold of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this bit of debauchery.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates from here on out are going to be a bit delayed. I had only written about four chapters when I first posted the story and have been trying to keep up but I get distracted easily. I honestly spent the last few days using an online floor planner to make Percival and Edith's apartments like a crazy person instead of actually writing. Don't worry though, I have content, we're going to be surpassing twenty chapters sometime soon!

Percival woke the next morning to a knock on his door. He grumbled, rolling out of the bed, unlocking the door and sharply pulling it open to shout at whoever had thought it was a good idea to wake him.

“Mister Graves!” Edith gasped, throwing her planner up in front of her face to shield her eyes. 

It was only then he realized he answered the door in nothing but his boxer shorts, he just sighed and turned around opening his luggage which he’d left on an empty lounge chair and fished out clean clothes. Edith had grabbed the door as soon as he abandoned it to pull it closed but before she could, he called out to her.

“Miss Matasen, I really don’t like being woken before I need to be.” He told her as she continued to hide behind the slightly ajar door while he put on an undershirt.

“Ummm… it’s 8:10 Mister Graves.” She informed him, he quickly pulled his pocket watch out of his pants from yesterday to check the time, only to see she was very much correct on the time.

“Fuck.” He whispered, quickening his pace on getting ready.

“I’ll just wait downstairs.” Edith called, closing the door finally. Percival ignored her, putting on his socks and garters, followed by a crisp white shirt, waistcoat and pants. He headed into the bathroom to finish cleaning up before putting on his shoes, suit jacket and a bit of cologne before grabbing his coat and heading to the lobby.

Edith sat patiently waiting for him, planner in hand, and much like him, her daily attire did not change much nor did the style of her false shoulder-length bob cut, but the spring saw the fabric of her clothes change from warm wool to light linen. 

“Miss Matasen.” He acknowledged as he walked over to the door and held it for her, she quickly stood and exited the lodge with him not far behind. They walked a quarter mile down the road into the village, neither saying a word to each other.

The day went as expected, they found the wizard who had brought Great Plains Fever to the state, feeling much better than what had been suggested. Percival questioned the wizard on the exact route he took from the Midwest to try and trace any possible future outbreaks.

When Percival asked if the wizard had gone into New York City, there was hesitation. The wizard denied ever stepping foot near the city, claiming he’d gone straight through Pennsylvania to reach his sisters home. It was obvious to Percival that the man was lying. 

If, as he suggested, the wizard took a rural path to Onondaga and avoided the city, it was very unlikely he would have come across another witch or wizard to pass the ailment to before they brought it into the area. He asked the man again, much more sternly, if he had entered the city before heading upstate.

The man, again, denied it. Percival placed a file on the table and opened it to read aloud a report given by a Dud in Staten Island who remembered meeting with the wizard in the Tompkinsville neighborhood to purchase one of several nogtails he was transporting to the Finger Lakes region. 

The Dud admitted to purchasing two nogtails from the suspect wizard to use against his No-Maj neighbor. The Dud also gave a description of the suspect as well as relaying details of the final destination for the rest of the nogtails, the village of Onondaga.

When he finished reciting the report, Percival closed the file, crossed his hands in front of him and stared intensely at the other wizard who had become very nervous. 

“Mr. Dunwall, surely you must be aware that you and your sister are the only wizards residing in this village. And surely, you understand that breeding and transporting nogtails is a criminal offence, as is selling them to No-Majs or Duds.” Percival said sharply.

“Surely you also know Congresses staunch position on reporting illness immediately upon entering the city.” He added, but Mr. Dunwall stayed silent, his hands shaking.

Edith stood quietly in a corner writing down every detail. Percival was well aware that she had never contracted the disease having grown up in Great Britain. As a precaution, he instructed her to not stand too close to any of the family members out of concern she would contract the fever.

“I ain’t sold to No-Majs.” Mr. Dunwall insisted.

“Really? So you didn’t sell one to a No-Maj while passing through the Water-Gap? Or to two additional No-Majs, one in Scranton and the other in Binghamton?” Percival questioned fiercely.

He didn’t really need to know, all the evidence gathered by his Aurors was in the file on the table.

“I’m just trying to feed my sis and her kids.” Mr. Dunwall said with tears in his eyes.

“I don't mean for anybody to get sick.” He added sincerely.

“Mr. Dunwall, at least one hundred of our kind have died in the boroughs because of your actions, several hundred more are infected. Several No-Majs have been cursed because of the nogtails you sold them. You put the entire wizarding community at risk of being discovered.” Percival said sternly.

“Are y'all going to execute me?” Mr. Dunwall asked through hiccups and tears, looking over at Edith in the corner for some sign of mercy.

“Mr. Dunwall, you are to report to the Aurors office in Albany by Wednesday to be taken to Champlain Prison. And know this, MACUSA is hesitant to grant leeway for smuggling, black market sales and exposure.” Percival said, rising from the chair and picking up the file.

“Be thankful your sister pleaded for your life.” Percival said, putting on his coat and signalling Edith that they were leaving. As they walked away from the home, Percival reached into his pocket for a cigarette. 

“Was Congress really going to execute him?” Edith asked as they walked alongside each other.

“Yes.” He said plainly. She immediately stopped walking and looked at him in horror.

“Seriously?” She asked.

“I don’t make the laws.” He defended, turning back to her.

“No, but you enforce them.” She reminded him with anger on her face. Percival took a few steps towards her.

“He committed several crimes.” He added.

“He was trying to feed his family.” She seethed before pushing past him and walking quickly down the road. Percival ran his palm down his face before taking a drag of his cigarette and following some distance behind her.

“You want lunch?” He called out to her, she shot him a glare over her shoulder and kept walking in her hasty pace.

“Hey,” He called again, jogging to catch up to her and grabbing her arm to make her stop and face him.

“I know you do things differently across the Atlantic but this is how we work in the States. I don’t agree with all of our policies but it is still my job to make sure they are followed. Do you think that man's sister would have known she could appeal for lighter sentencing if I hadn’t sent a legal advocate out here to meet with her weeks ago?” He asked frustrated.

Edith’s face relaxed a bit but not much, she pulled her arm from his grasp and stood silently waiting on him. He started walking again and she followed beside him.

He hated it when she got like this. Too often he felt under fire from the young witch who clearly did not agree with MACUSA’s practices. He was accustomed to them and had dedicated his career to upholding their rules, occasionally, in a situation like this he felt obligated to intervene inconspicuously. It was difficult being the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and Security.

Percival had a strong sense of justice, it had been with him since he was a child and he carried it with him all his life. Edith also seemed to have it, albeit her sense of justice was based on her own personal morality instead of the laws set to make society function.

“So lunch?” He asked again, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why are you always hungry?” She asked in amazement.

“I’m a growing boy.” He joked.

As they strolled back through the village to the lodge Percival told Edith all about the elaborate lunches his mother made for him growing up. She scoffed at some of the details.

“You were a spoiled child.” She noted with a smile on her face.

“Too good for porridge or haggis, no doubt.” She added.

“I don’t know what haggis is but it sounds awful.” Percival admitted.

“It is a sheep's pluck, with oats and veggies stuffed into the sheep's stomach and then boiled.” She explained to him, he gave her a face of disgust.

“Yeah, my brother wasn’t very good at making it, so we ate a lot of porridge.” She admitted.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Percival told her, looking over at her as they walked.

“I think I mentioned him yesterday.” She pointed out.

“Eunan. He raised me because, well, my mother was a nightmare.” She added quickly.

“Oh, yes. Older brother than?” Percival assumed.

“Six years older than me.” She said with a half-smile. Percival suddenly remembered the conversation from the train. 

He remembered Edith referring to her brother in the past tense and saying she had no family waiting for her back in Scotland. He didn’t want to spoil the afternoon so he quickly changed the subject back to the haggis.

“Wait… so you take the sheep’s organs and then stuff it into its own stomach? That just seems rude to the sheep.” He questioned, not understanding the dish.

She laughed in a way he hadn’t heard before. It was full-on, honest laugh, the kind someone would be embarrassed by if they cared about those sort of things. They chatted their way back to the lodge, all the while not noticing the man walking not far behind them down the village’s main street. 

Had Percival not been wrapped up in the conversation, he would have noted that it was the same man who had been watching them at the train station the other day when they arrived in Syracuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s a Dud you ask? Oh well, it’s just a word I made up to mean those born into magical families but who possess no magic. Don’t you mean a Squib? Why yes, I do. But since the Americans have a different name for muggles, it seemed right that they’d have different names for squibs too. For anyone interested, Tompkinsville is a neighbourhood on Staten Island’s north shore not far from the current location of the Staten Island Ferry. The “Water-Gap” is in reference to the Delaware Water Gap, located nowhere near the state of the same name but actually between New Jersey and Pennsylvania along the Delaware River.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“You’ve come in the offseason I’m afraid.” The lodge manager said as he led Percival and Edith into the dining room, which looked like it had been rarely used in the last few months. He showed them to a table overlooking the small garden and pulled Edith’s seat out for her and took her coat.

“Our menu is limited but we can prepare you an excellent lunch nonetheless.” He admitted as Percival took his seat and smiled at him.

“We have roast beef, boiled ham, beef tongue, and sliced chicken, served with rolls and butter. Or if you'd prefer, we can make you anything off the breakfast menu.” The manager said as he set out silverware for them and a young girl no older than twelve brought them glasses of water.

“I’ll have the roast beef please and coffee if it's not too much trouble.” Percival asked kindly, looking over at Edith who still browsed the menu.

“The french toast is delicious.” The young girl said as she hid behind the manager, who Percival assumed must have been her father.

“Is it now?” Edith asked with sweet but false curiosity, the young girl smiled at her and nodded.

“Gran makes it with an apple kam.. kam.. umm..” the young girl trailed before looking to the manager for the answer.

“Compote.” The manager whispered to her.

“Apple compote.” The young girl finished. Edith gave her another smile and said she would love nothing more than to try it. The manager and young girl left them and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Oh sure, be nice to the kid but not your boss.” Percival teased as Edith unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. She scrunched her nose at him and half laughed at him, he only smiled back.

They bickered lightly as they waited for their food. She claimed him to be as lively and warm as a statue, he called her prude. It wasn’t like their argument early, it was much more light-hearted like the conversation on the walk back and they laughed at each other's quips.

“But why would there be a deadbolt on a closet?” He asked again as they had started bantering about how he walked in on her in the bathroom the previous night.

“Who doesn’t knock first?” She demanded to know.

“You knocked first and still got me off guard this morning.” He pointed out, she went to speak but words had suddenly failed her.

“Did you like what you saw Miss Matasen?” He teased with a wicked grin as she turned various shades of red in front of him. Percival suddenly felt bold and slid his hand across the table, taking his index finger and hooking it with hers, all the while never breaking eye contact with her.

The air grew thick and for a moment he thought Edith stopped breathing as her other hand played with the small charm on her necklace. The silence was broken by the sound of a door opening and the appearance of the young girl. Percival withdrew his hand from Edith’s and sat back in his chair as the girl rolled a small cart over with a pot of coffee, two cups, and saucers, cream, and sugar atop of it.

As the young girl placed the items on the table, Edith helped her and they made more small talk with Edith promising to show the girl how to style her hair the way she had.

Percival was too amused by their conversation to notice the man who entered the dining room from the lobby. Too distracted by Edith’s grace and kindness towards the child to notice the No-Maj weapon the stranger hid in his coat. It wasn’t until the last moment before the No-Maj had begun to draw the weapon out that Percival had noticed and stood, trying to react as quickly as he could.

Percival was hit before he could reach his wand, metal tearing through his abdomen unrelentingly. Edith had grabbed the girl who screamed, wrapping a hand around the girl's face to shield her eyes as she pulled her into the safety of her body before pulling out her own wand disarming the No-Maj who scrambled for the weapon mere seconds before the manager had come running out of the kitchen to pounce on the assailant.

Edith quickly instructed the girl to go hide before dropping to the floor beside Percival who lay there bleeding. The manager meanwhile had gotten hold of the weapon and fired it twice, missing the intruder as he ran out of the lodge.

Percival’s breathing labored as Edith pressed one hand against the wound to stop the bleeding as the other held her wand low at her side out of sight of the manager.

“Not here.” Percival groaned, reminding her of the law.

“You’ll die.” She scolded him quietly, as she tucked her wand into her skirt pocket as the manager came over to help her.

“I’ll call for a doctor.” He told them as he handed Edith some more cloth napkins to negate the flow of blood pouring from Percival’s stomach. Percival just lay there trying to hold a straight face as they both tried to help him.

“There’s no time. Help me get him to the kitchen.” She said as they both sat Percival up and pulled him to his feet. She continued applying pressure to his wound as the three of them stumbled to the lodge's kitchen. Percival had become very pale by the time they laid him out on the metal prep table which the young girl and an elderly lady had cleared for them.

“Do you have any boiled water with salt?” Edith asked as she peeled off his jacket and waistcoat, untucked his shirt, and began unbuttoning it. He watched her through the pain as she studied the wound, her necklace dangling off her neck. She tucked her necklace into her shirt to get it out the way and rolled up her sleeves and pulled her already pinned up hair into a bun before walking to a sink and washing her hands.

The manager had brought her the water she requested in a small cup and she just looked at him disappointedly. 

“I need eight cups with about seventeen grams of salt mixed in.” She clarified and so he set the cup down and went to look for a pot.

“Do you have any sewing needles and thread?” Edith asked the elderly woman who nodded and left to retrieve them as the manager came back with a pot full of warm salted water, towels, and rags.

Edith poured some of it over the wound and wiped away the excess. 

“Grab me a fillet knife and put another to heat on the stove.” She asked the manager, Percival’s head shot up when she said this and she quickly pushed his head back down on the table and instructed him to relax.

The manager handed Edith the knife as she stood over Percival nervously.

“No chance you have a bottle of whiskey hidden in this place.” Percival joked to the manager, who looked like he was going to be sick at the sight of the wound. 

“You sure you know what you’re doing ma’am?” The elderly lady asked as she placed some needle and thread on the table and pulled her granddaughter to her side.

Edith didn’t say anything, she dug the knife into the wound causing Percival to let out the most vulgar string of curses he could muster.

“Hold him please.” She announced and the manager leaned across the table to keep Percival from trying to sit up. Percival had no words to describe the pain, his abdomen felt like it had been split in half and now, he was quite literally being stabbed as Edith tried to fish out the metal implanted in him.

He cringed as he felt her warm fingers dip into the wound alongside the knife to try pulling it out. Her fingers pushing aside muscles and tissue to get eyes on the bullet.

“Where did you train?” The manager asked as he struggled to hold Percival down.

“The Nightingale School in London.” She answered never once taking her eyes off the wound.

“You serve in the war?” The manager inquired, trying to keep his focus anywhere except for her blood-covered hands.

“Yes, in Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service. Western front.” She acknowledged as she tossed the knife on the table and pulled her fingers from the wound with the bullet in tow.

“Hand me the hot one.” She asked and the elderly woman quickly obliged before grabbing the young girl and quickly leaving the kitchen with her.

“Percival,” Edith said looking at him over the manager and forcing her fingers back into the wound and prying it open. He glanced at her as he struggled to keep himself together.

“This is really going to hurt.” She said before sticking the burning metal into the wound with no hesitation.

“FUUUUUCCCK!” He screamed out as she dropped the knife on the table and wiped another saltwater rag over his flesh. She picked up another rag and continued to wipe away blood as it left his body. 

“I’m… I’m going to get some air if that’s alright.” The manager told her as he eased his grip on Percival whose eyes had gone dark as appeared to have withdrawn from his surroundings.

When Edith didn’t answer and began threading the needle to sew up the wound, the manager took that as a sign he was no longer needed and left.

Percival, however, was still very much aware of everything. He watched her through half-closed eyes and felt each time the needle pierced his skin and the thread passed through after it. Her delicate hands and forearms were covered in thick layers of his blood, her linen blouse stained and hair disheveled.

When she was finally done she set the needle down hard on the table and let out a heavy sigh, looking around for something before grabbing a jar of honey off a shelf and pouring some on to the wound, and spreading the thick substance in. 

She then dropped into a nearby chair looking utterly defeated. Percival thought she looked like an entirely different person and when she went to push the hair from her face she had finally noticed how much of his blood had covered her.

Her heart appeared to fall out of her chest and she quickly ran to the sink and began furiously scrubbing her skin clean. When all of it wouldn’t come out, she braced herself against the sink and began to breathe loudly as she tried to focus.

“Hey,” He whispered to her and she quickly turned around surprised to see he was still lucid. She dried her hands on her skirt, wiped her eyes, and took a few deep breaths before coming to his side.

“You did well.” He assured her as he grabbed her hand.

“You should have let me use magic.” She told him angrily.

“How else was I going to get you to take my clothes off.” He smirked up at her.

“You can get an infection.” She scolded him.

“Then you will take care of that too.” He said simply as he lay on the table closing his eyes. He must have dozed off without realizing it because she roused him sometime later to take him back to his room.

“What the hell were you doing serving in a No-Maj military?” He questioned, backtracking to her conversation with the manager as she helped him sit up and bring his legs over the side of the table. She must have been what? Seventeen or Eighteen if she had been serving on the Western Front.

“I was supporting my country.” She stated, as she brought her shoulder under his arm and helped him stand with one hand on his chest and the other on his side. He breathed heavily, already exhausted by the few actions.

Edith never ceased to amaze him, he didn’t think he would have ever guessed she trained as a proper No-Maj nurse and spent time on the front lines treating soldiers. It made sense though, thinking back on all their conversations relating to the war.

When the lodge manager saw them enter the dining room he set aside his mop and came over to help get Percival up the stairs to his room. Percival practically melted into the mattress with a groan when they finally did, his body aching and his wound feeling like a second heartbeat.

Edith thanked the manager for his assistance and assured him she let him know if they needed anything.

Edith leaned back against the door and looked at Percival, he watched her from the comfort of the bed, his white shirt still unbuttoned and stained with blood. She sighed and went over to him sitting on the edge of the bed to help him slide out of the shirt.

She used another damp rag to wipe away some of the blood that seeped from the sutures as he sat up and placed it in a bowl on the bedside table before pulling off his shoes. Percival laid flat on his back with his pants still on and eyes closed, trying to process everything that had happened.

“Please stay.” He asked as he felt her stand up from the bed, probably to go to her own room. She said nothing and sat back beside him. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, worn out, and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence Nightingale was the founder of modern nursing. In the 1860s she set up a school for nursing in London. Her work in the Crimea helped establish The Army Nursing Service in the 1880s which eventually became the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service (QAIMNS) in 1902 and then in 1949 it was renamed the Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps. The QAIMNS are often confused for the more romanticized Voluntary Aid Detachment (VADs) and Red Cross volunteers who typically had no medical training and were relegated to hospitality duties like cooking and cleaning. The QAIMNS did actual clinical work. They wore grey dresses instead of white like the VADs and their symbol was a white cross. They worked on the front lines and in military hospitals, they even had ranks with a Sister being equivalent to a Lieutenant and the Matron-in-Chief being the equivalent to a Brigadier. About 200 of them gave their lives while serving in WWI.  
> \--  
> A saline solution is good for cleaning wounds because it mimics the body’s natural pH and isn’t be as harsh on the skin as alcohol. There are differences in opinion about whether or not you should dig out a bullet. If the wound isn’t bleeding it is often best to leave the bullet in and sew up the wound, the reason being that removing the bullet could actually unplug whatever blood vessels it blocked leading to uncontrolled bleeding. If it is the wound bleeding you may want to dig it out and cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. Depending on how deep you seal the wound it can be stitched up to encourage the surface skin to heal. Honey is actually a good natural salve with antibacterial properties. My medical knowledge has not at all been reviewed by the FDA and 10/10 doctors recommend not listening to me.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Percival woke early enough to meet the sun as it crept through the window. His abdomen hurt fiercely and the rest of his body ached just as bad. He looked over to see Edith asleep in the lounge chair in the corner, her legs draped over the arm. 

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, finally getting a good look at the wound and her level of skill at treating it. He sat up slowly, bringing his legs to the edge of the bed and holding onto the bedpost as he forced himself to stand. He groaned as he did and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Percival took a good look at himself in the mirror, he felt worse than he looked and ran a hand down his face trying to wipe away the sleep in his eyes.

“You alright?” Edith called groggily from the other side of the door and he opened it to let her in, knowing that she’d eventually pester him to check on his injury. She looked absolutely exhausted as she examined the stitches pressing her fingers lighting along both sides causing him to cringe.

“I need to buy proper sutures.” She informed him, looking up at him quickly before continuing her examination.

“We’ll stop before we get on the train.” He said yawning and then instantly regretting the action as he felt the thread pull against his skin.

“You wouldn’t feel like that if I had used magic.” She reminded him. 

“Well use it now.” He said.

“You clearly don’t know anything about medicine, magic, or muggle.” She laughed as she checked on the bruise developing around the wound before standing up straight to look at him directly.

“I already treated you with muggle methods. Magic won’t do anything now but speed up the healing process and it won’t stop an infection from developing. Which means you have to heal the normal way so I can make sure I can spot any signs of infection.” She explained but he just stared at her only understanding a portion of what she said.

“Does that mean you have to give me a sponge bath?” He suddenly thought as he smiled at her devilishly. Her eyes closed in disbelief but her lips couldn’t hide her smile. She stepped around him and went through the other door to her room and closed it behind her.

He turned on the shower and removed the rest of his clothes from the previous day before stepping into the warm stream of water. He gently washed the wound and thoroughly scrubbed the skin around it to rid it of the blood that had collected and dried. 

When he was done cleaning himself, he wrapped a towel around his waist and fixed his hair in the mirror before heading back to his room. Edith had neatly folded his worn clothes from the last two days and set them beside his open suitcase from which he took fresh clothes. He dressed slowly, afraid that if he strained the thread holding him together would break.

Water sounded from the bathroom, an indication to him that Edith was taking her turn in the shower. He relished at the thought of her nude form so close to him yet still so incredibly far. He was sure that if yesterday's events hadn’t unfolded he would have kissed Edith there at the table.

The only thing he wasn’t sure of was if she’d accept him, or cast a hex upon him. She was funny that way, he could tell she felt some attraction towards him but she either had no real interest in him or was much better at restraining herself.

But his mind soon drifted to the No-Maj who attacked them. He must have been lost in his thoughts for a while because as he sat on the bed, dressed with his shirt still unbuttoned, she knocked from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Come.” He instructed and she did, her long hair damp and brushed but not styled. She was dressed and appeared ready to go.

“The manager has called us a car to take us back to the station.” She told him.

“Good. Is the old woman and child still here?” Percival asked, and her face got sad knowing the reason he asked.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“I’ll take care of it before we go.” He told her as he finished buttoning his shirt.

“They didn’t see anything.” She reminded him and he just looked at her with a sympathetic face.

“After yesterday, they can’t remember that we were ever here.” He said softly, trying to be as delicate as possible.

“The No-Maj, did you get a good look at him?” Percival asked next and she just shook her head.

“He had a band around his coat sleeve with a shield and cross. It’s supposed to repel possession and magic, it’s the symbol of the AFEM.” He explained, but the puzzled look on her face told him she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What is AFEM?” She asked.

“Ad Fratrum Expellite Magia. The Brotherhood to Expel Magic. They’re No-Maj zealots. They have one mission, to rid the world of those who practice magic in the name of their God.” He told her, groaning slightly as he stood to tuck his shirt into his pants. She grabbed the waistcoat from his luggage and helped him put it on along with his suit jacket.

“He was at the train station on Friday. He knew what we are, he was waiting for us.” Percival continued as she packed his bag. 

“Who knew we were coming?” She asked trying to understand how a No-Maj could be tracking their movements.

“Picquery and just a handful of others at headquarters.” He told her as she crossed through the bathroom to grab her coat and bag. 

“Why did she send you here?” Edith asked skeptically as she returned to his room.

“Surely the director of Magical Security has better things to do than scare a wizard like Mr. Dunwall and serve him a prison notice.” She pointed out.

“Her way of punishing me for getting him a lighter sentence. Trust me, Seraphina hates me but she isn’t trying to kill me and if she was she wouldn’t risk our exposure to No-Majs to do it.” He assured her, she gave him an intrigued look when he called the President by her first name.

“Are you jealous?” He smiled, coming closer to her.

“Jealousy would imply that I feel something other than a professional courtesy towards you, Mister Graves.” She teased with an emphasis on his name and then pushed his luggage into his chest hard enough to irritate the injury but gentle enough that she didn’t cause him serious harm.

He took his bag in one hand and they made their way to the lobby, going slowly down the stairs at her advice. The manager stood behind the counter, looking over some ledgers.

“I would like to thank you and your family for your help.” Percival said as he approached the counter.

“Please.” Percival added. The manager smiled and called for his mother and daughter to join him in the lobby. 

“Of course, I will also cover your losses and the cleanup.” Percival also offered when Edith nudged him with a stern look on her face.

“Oh, no need sir.” The manager insisted as Percival pulled out the clip that held his No-Maj money and began counting out bills.

“Uh, that should do it right?” Percival asked looking over at Edith realizing he had no idea how much it would actually cost. Edith reached over and pulled out one more bill, the one with the highest value, and placed it on the counter.

“For the trouble.” She said simply.

The manager and his mother’s eyes went wide with shock at the generosity and the little girl just laughed, outside they heard the taxi honk for them. Percival put the rest of his money away and as his hand dipped into his pocket he grabbed his wand and wordlessly set the memory charm into action.

All three of their faces went blank as they stood at the counter together unmoving. Percival took Edith’s arm and guided her to the door, she was clearly upset about having to wipe their memories. They got into the car and remained silent for the trip into Syracuse, the only sounds from them were of Edith controlling her breathing so she wouldn’t get sick again.

The taxi dropped them two blocks away from the train station at a pharmacy where Percival paid for the medical supplies Edith needed. At the station he exchanged their compartment tickets for a sleeping cabin as the extra space and privacy was needed to tend to his injury.

At 9:00 exactly, they boarded the train and quickly confined themselves to the cabin. Percival sat on the lower single bunk, taking off his coat and suit jacket as Edith set out the materials on the small table provided as the train pulled out and began the journey back to Manhattan. 

It was a cramped cabin, the space between the bunks and the table was only enough for one person to stand at a time. Edith threaded what appeared to be a long curved needle with thread from a small vile that said ‘STERILIZED’ all the while the train car swayed back and forth.

“Are you sure you should do this now?” He questioned, just a little bit concerned.

“I’ve treated worse under heavy artillery fire.” She said nonchalantly putting the needle down on the table and grabbing another item, snapping it in half and removing a swab from inside of it.

“Lay down.” She instructed and he removed his waistcoat only to find that he had bled a little on the formerly clean shirt before unbuttoning it and laying down in the bunk. Edith got up and knelt on the floor beside him, taking the swab and cleaning the blood from his skin.

The door to the cabin slid open, much to their surprise and Edith stood quickly to stop whoever it was intruding on them by blocking the door with her body.

“Désolé, je dois avoir une mauvaise chambre.” A woman about the same age as Edith spoke as she caught a glimpse of Percival.

“Vous êtes pardonné. Maintenant, s'il vous plaît, je dois m'occuper de mon mari.” Edith said back before closing the cabin door and making sure it was properly locked this time. She came back to Percival’s side after grabbing the needle and a few other tools from the table.

“We need to have a long conversation about locks.” Percival said as she leaned over his abdomen. 

“I’ll put it on the calendar.” She joked and she used scissors to cut the old stitches and tweezers to pull the thread out. Percival hated the sensation of the thread pulling through his skin.

“You learned French during your service I assume?” He said, trying to make conversation.

“Perfected it during my service. Angelica taught me while we were at school.” She replied.

“Really helped me in the end, the sisters thought we should all be able to speak French since it was likely we were going there immediately after graduation.” She explained as she pulled the last few threads out and passed the swab over his skin again.

“Why didn’t you become a healer?” He questioned.

“I did become a healer, after the war. I worked at St Mungo’s in London before coming to New York.” She said as she pushed the needle through his skin causing him to wince in pain. He took a moment to breathe steadily.

“What made you leave?” He continued to probe, he needed to keep his mind on anything but the needle and thread repeatedly piercing and sliding through his skin. Edith was silent as she continued mending him.

“You can tell me.” He assured her.

“I got tired.” She said plainly and Percival decided he would leave it at that.

“You get exhausted watching people around you die. Strangers, friends, family, it becomes… overwhelming.” She added, and Percival suddenly felt stupid. All the No-Maj newspapers had talked about during the war was how horrific it was with men coming back with something called Shell Shock. 

“I’m sorry if I worried you.” He offered sincerely as she tied off the sutures and cut the end of the thread. 

“You always worry me.” She said annoyed but with a smile.

“That would imply that you feel something other than a professional courtesy towards me, Miss Matasen.” He teased her as she stood and placed the tools on the table before grabbing a salve and some bandages she had gotten at the pharmacy. She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t hide the hint of blush that rose on her cheeks.

She knelt beside him again and opened the jar of salve, dipping her fingers in it and spreading it thickly over the wound. To say that he didn’t enjoy the way she touched him would have been a lie and he couldn’t help but watch her intensely as she made sure the layer of salve was even before wiping her hands and instructing him to sit up so she could wrap a bandage around his abdomen.

She cleared the table and tossed the used items in the small rubbish bin provided as Percival buttoned up his shirt. Edith grabbed the pull bar for the other bed in the cabin and hoisted herself onto the bunk above Percival’s. 

He returned to his bunk and laid down, letting the movements of the train lull him to sleep only waking when there was a knock on the door. The steward was making his rounds and as usual, Percival asked for coffee and several newspapers. He sat up for the rest of the train ride reading while above him, Edith slept trying to avoid any nausea brought about by the train's movements.

Once they arrived back at Grand Central, Percival instructed Edith to go home and rest and to be wary of any suspicious No-Majs and made it very, very clear that she was to lock her door properly. 

Edith gave him the remaining bandages and salve along with strict instructions that he did not pay much attention to. His mind was on tomorrow.

They’d have a lot of work to do when they got into the office. They’d have to finish their report on the fever outbreak and nogtails, send Aurors to relocate Mr. Dunwall’s sister and her children for safety, dig into Brotherhood's most recent activity and find out how they knew where he would be.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

As Percival expected, Monday morning was busy. Besides he and Edith’s incident, several other people in MACUSA had been targeted over the weekend, and rather unfortunately, a junior Auror was killed protecting the Chief of Staff.

Percival spent much of the day in meetings with President Picquery and other department heads trying to assess the situation. The Brotherhood had remained off the radar for several years and then in a single day, decided to make it known that they had not abandoned their mission.

As Percival sat through one of the meetings, his injury had begun to ache with seemingly no intention to let him get through the day comfortably. When Marcus Minus got up to discuss setting up more Auror patrols during the day's fifth meeting, Percival had reached peak discomfort. 

When he discreetly reached his hand into his suit jacket to check the wound he found that he had started bleeding through his shirt. Without a word he stood and exited the meeting, causing Marcus to trail off mid-sentence. Percival swiftly headed back to his office, hoping Edith was still at her desk.

Sure enough, the young witch was sitting at her desk up to her neck in paperwork that undoubtedly was meant for him.

“Miss Matasen, your assistance.” He requested as he walked past her and straight into his office. She got up quickly with a look of concern crossing her face as she closed the door behind her.

He turned to her and pulled his hand from his suit jacket to show her the blood and she immediately rushed to him to help him out of his jacket and waistcoat. 

“What did you do?” She asked in disbelief at how much blood covered his shirt.

“I didn’t do anything. I’ve been in meetings all day.” He informed her, as he began unbuttoning his shirt for her to get a better look. 

“Where is the bandage?” She asked, as he untucked the shirt from his pants and gave her access to the wound.

“Was I supposed to have one?” He asked curiously but the irritated look on her face said it all.

“I gave you all the bandages yesterday for this exact reason.” She scolded him when suddenly President Picquery burst through the door angrily, only to stop, caught off guard by the sight of the Director shirtless in his office with his secretary.

Percival slowly turned his head towards Edith who refused to look at him because of how many times in the past few days he had reminded her to lock doors behind her.

“Did I miss something?” Picquery asked with a sternness in her voice. Percival just pointed to his bleeding abdomen.

“Oh hell.” She said gagging at the sight of his open wound.

“Close the door please.” He asked and Picquery shut herself in the room with them as Edith conjured a bowl of water, rags, and bandages.

“What the hell happened?” Picquery asked as she moved closer trying to get a better look but covering her mouth every few seconds to suppress her desire to vomit.

“I told you, we were attacked while in Syracuse.” He reminded her, as Edith wiped the blood from his skin.

“You didn’t mention getting injured.” Picquery pointed out.

“Oh well, Madame President I would like to amend my report to add that I was shot while in Syracuse.” He said sarcastically, Picquery just gave him the same look she always did, the one that said ‘I hate you’.

“He’s fine. He just didn’t listen to anything I told him to do.” Edith chimed in, drying his skin with a clean rag and pulling out her wand.

“What are you doing?” Picquery asked curiously, leaning over to get a better look, and almost immediately after Edith pointed her wand at the sutures, they visibly moved tightening around his skin.

“Egghh, I don’t like that.” Percival said with a grimace. Picquery squirmed at the sight and turned away trying to shake it off.

“It wouldn’t be necessary if you weren’t moving so much. You need to let the skin fuse back together.” Edith said, pulling a jar of unscented hand cream from her pocket.

“I trust she has this under control. You can fill me in later.” Picquery said, quickly making her exit as she looked like she might pass out if she saw any more.

“It would help if you did what I told you.” Edith hissed at him, spreading the cream across the sutures. She wiped her hands with a wet rag and picked up the bandages, her expression exasperated.

“I’m not good with this stuff.” Percival admitted as she wrapped the bandage around his abdomen.

“Well, you better learn. This needs to be done first thing in the morning and before you go to bed.” She informed him, pinning the bandage securely and standing in front of him.

“And don’t you go making any crude jokes.” She cut him off quickly just as he was about to make one. He just smiled at her as she cleaned his shirt with a quick spell and disappeared the bowl of water and rags.

Edith had to show Percival again how to change his dressings before they went home for the day. The next few weeks were just as busy as that Monday had been with meetings and paperwork and several more high profile attacks on witches and wizards throughout the city.

By the end of May, Percival was convinced that exposure to the No-Majs was inevitable and he expressed the concern to Edith over lunch on one of the few days they actually managed to break free of headquarters.

He had really begun to enjoy their lunch outings, while still filled with discussions of work, the meals were a welcomed respite. He found that she had begun to relax more around him, especially once she had a good meal in her.

She preferred to eat breakfast for lunch, particularly buckwheat griddle cakes with rashers, which she learned quickly she had to ask for specifically instead of bacon.

The first time she ordered the bacon, she ended up leaving it untouched on her plate leading to a long debate between them about what qualifies as ‘bacon’. She was confused by the long, thin, fatty strips of pork on her plate, expecting something wider and leaner, which Percival informed her is not considered bacon in the States.

He ended up eating the bacon off her plate while she questioned his meal choices, noting that all she ever saw him eat was steak and eggs or corned beef sandwiches.

“You eat sheep's organs stuffed in another sheep organ and you want to question my meal choices?” He laughed as he sipped on his coffee.

“That’s your third steak this week and it’s Tuesday.” She pointed out.

“What was it last time? Toast with herring and asparagus?” He questioned, thinking of their lunch the previous day.

“Do you even know what a vegetable is?” She asked, stirring her tea with a snarky smile across her face. Percival bit his lip and smiled at her before taking another sip of his coffee. 

Edith’s humor was always rather dry but it never ceased to amuse him, she had absolutely no problem making fun of him. Others at MACUSA tended to refrain from humor around him, perhaps because he was their superior, perhaps because they thought he couldn’t take a joke.

Although, now that he thought of it, she was never this laid back in the office. She was typically very serious at work and around others, even with Queenie. Perhaps she felt as comfortable with him, as he felt with her.

He swore that with each day that passed, his feelings for her grew more and more. Yet he didn’t know what to do with them other than playfully flirt with her at every chance he got.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

“Did you hear Beryl resigned her post?” Percival overhead Queenie tell Edith as the blonde witch hopped on to his secretary’s desk to sit on a warm June afternoon.

“What? Why?” Edith inquired, not understanding the decision of the middle-aged witch who had worked as the assistant to the Chief Auror for nearly a decade.

“Apparently she’s really worried about the Brotherhood. Said she doesn’t want to work for anyone high profile because it just puts a target on her back.” Queenie explained.

“Can you blame her? She’s the sole provider for her family until Lou recovers from his accident.” Edith sympathized, never looking up from the paperwork she was completing.

“Yeah, they transferred her down to the typing pool. Apparently, Mrs. Limus promised Beryl she could come back at any time but I doubt she will. I know I wouldn’t want to be working for any of the department heads right now.” Queenie added and then quickly looked over at Edith with wide eyes realizing what she said.

“I mean, not that you’re in danger or anything.” Queenie clarified.

“Miss Goldstein, please don’t scare my secretary into quitting.” Percival called out through the open office door.

“Funny that you think I scare easily.” Edith called back to him, setting one form aside and starting on another. He just smiled while continuing to review the files on his own desk.

Of all the things Percival had learned about Edith’s personality, the one he knew that would never change was her loyalty. It was true that since April there had been some changes around MACUSA with certain people stepping down from their roles after more attacks by the Brotherhood on senior officials.

No one wanted to risk becoming caught in the crossfire. Edith however, seemed unaffected by this. He was convinced that no matter how much he angered her, flirted with her, or put her life at risk just by working for him she’d be by his side when all the smoke cleared.

When the smoke would clear exactly, he wasn’t sure. The summer had brought an unbearable heat to the city that seemed to put wizards and No-Majs alike on edge. 

It didn’t help that the Great Plains fever was still spreading across the city and the heat was known to exacerbate the symptoms and cause more fatalities. He was just thankful that Edith had removed his sutures and cleared him for fieldwork before the summer began. 

Edith felt the need to consistently remind Percival that he was not immortal but her skills as a nurse only proved to be a pitfall to the argument since he decided that she would handle his care whenever he got injured. Percival seemed to get injured a lot to the point where President Picquery required Edith to go to the Office for Magic Relations and Education to get her to recertify license as a MediWizard.

During the last week of July, a tip had come into the Wizarding Resources Department regarding the spread of the fever. The tip led Percival and his Aurors to the meatpacking district where they arrested over a dozen wizards and Duds who were housing hundreds of unregistered witches and wizards who had just arrived in the country by stowing away on No-Maj ships.

One of the Duds happened to be the gentleman who informed on Mr. Dunwall about the nogtails. He had used it as a cover to hide the fact that he was the one who had accidentally spread the fever into the city by infecting those he sought to smuggle in away from MACUSA’s watchful eye.

Percival was just thankful that Edith didn’t go on field missions with him. He thought she might burst into a rage at the sight of all the poor witches and wizards with their children living in squalor while waiting for black market papers and wands they undoubtedly gave their life savings for.

As per usual with all things it did, MACUSA had a strict immigration policy for the wizarding community and many were turned away for posing too much of a risk to the International Statute of Secrecy. 

They were ‘too unpracticed with their magic’, ‘too obvious’, or were unwilling to register, hide their gifts, or carrying something illegal like magic beans or a doxy in their suitcase. It wasn’t any wonder why a black market for people smuggling had arisen.

No doubt Edith would have something to say when he got back to the office to write up the report. It took nearly the entire day for the team to clear out the building with healers being called in to help relocate the sick to Rackharrow Hospital. The rest were rounded up and taken back to headquarters for registration or deportation.

When he arrived back at his office, Edith was already waiting in one of the chairs at his desk for his debrief. He shut the door, hung up his jacket, and sat down before beginning. Much to his surprise as the hours passed and the day grew late he heard not one opinion from Edith about the raid.

Around 7 PM they took a break with her bringing them a pot of tea.

“I thought you’d have something to say.” He told her honestly, watching as she retook her seat and began pouring the tea.

“I think the situation speaks for itself.” She admitted, but her voice wasn’t as stern as it usually was.

“Just tell me. Did your heartbreak seeing all those people like that? Or were you indifferent because a law was broken?” She asked, her words were like ice dripping down his spine.

“Leniency is being granted to everyone but the smugglers.” He assured her.

“They don’t want your leniency. They want homes and food but you have no idea what that is like do you? You’ve never wanted for anything.” She pointed out, and it was true.

“I’m doing the best that I can within the limits of what the law will allow me to do. I can’t... I can’t help all of them.” He reminded her and she just looked down into her cup disappointed.

“Someday we are going to get there but right now, I have no say on how the law will affect those people.” Percival was sincere and he hoped that she knew it. 

Congress was a dynamic machine with hundreds of wands stirring the pot and making the rules. When he first took the job as Director he thought he’d be able to embed his sense of right and wrong into it but that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t remember when he stopped loving the job, but he was a dedicated man and so he stayed with it.

“You’re a strange man Mister Graves.” Edith said, taking a sip of her tea.

“How so?” He asked curiously.

“You come off as all rules and regulations. Stiff and proper, yet, there is all this… tenderness and passion behind everything you do.” She explained, he let out a laugh.

“I don’t think anyone has ever referred to me as tender before.” He chuckled, smiling at her in only the way she could make him.

Percival thought Edith came off as someone who did not need help nor did she want anything from anyone, yet, she wore an armor so thick that it screamed in conflict with this. She needed and she wanted, but she had seemed to have forgotten how to ask or just plainly refused to.

But he left it unsaid and they finished their work in silence before heading their separate ways home. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry, but I stalled at Chapter Twenty-Five and keep editing everything after Chapter Twenty so I may painfully drag this out for you until I can figure out where I'm steering this ship! The great news is, while this chapter is fairly dull, the next three... well there's going to be a lot going on.

Percival hadn’t thought much about the Great Plains Fever since they shut down the operation unintentionally spreading it. It was no longer a concern of his as the number of new cases had begun to dwindle and his focus shifted to several public killings of wizards by the Brotherhood.

He had caught the fever himself very early in his youth. His dear mother recalled every detail of the ordeal, reminding him of how ill her precious boy had been for weeks. So when he caught it again at the end of July he had hardly even realized it, never feeling more than a tickle in the back of his throat.

Edith on the other hand did not fare as well. Maybe he was just too busy with his caseload to notice. Or maybe it was because she always presented herself as if nothing was wrong that he missed all of the telltale signs of the sickness taking hold of her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked one August morning, as she shakily placed a cup of coffee on his desk, her face flushed and her eyes not as intense as usual.

“I’m fine.” She said confidently, leaving his office and closing the door behind her. He watched her silhouette through the frosted window as she carefully sat in her seat, seeming to believe it would somehow disappear from underneath her. 

He went back to the files on his desk, making some notes and looking for a particular form when he heard her begin to cough. He looked up from his work and watched her through the window, carefully analyzing the way she breathed and the way each cough moved her whole body.

As she went to stand, it happened. It only took a single second, a single step and she faltered, collapsing to the floor in a way that made Percival jump out of his chair and throw open the door to his office.

Edith lay unconscious like a heap on the floor behind her desk and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her forehead to feel the fire emanating from within. 

“Is she okay?” Queenie asked frantically as she came running over.

“She’s going to be fine.” Percival assured her as he gently lifted Edith in his arms and carried her over to the rarely used sofa in his office. Queenie closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of the sofa beside her friend as Percival sent a message for a MediWizard.

They waited for the healer to come up and check that Edith hadn’t hit her head when she fell and by the time they left, she’d regained consciousness but was clearly far from being well.

“I’m fine.” She tried to convince them, pushing away Queenie’s hands as the blonde witch kept trying to check on her temperature.

“Edith, you have the fever. You need to rest.” Queenie tried to tell her.

“I feel fine.” Edith said again but she struggled to find air as she coughed so hard she needed to hold her chest, almost yanking off her own necklace as she gripped it tightly.

“You’re going home. I won’t hear any more about it.” Percival said sternly as he helped her stand.

“Mister Graves,” She started again but she shut up quickly when she saw the stern and worried look on his face.

As they walked towards the office door, she faltered again and lost consciousness briefly as Percival and Queenie caught her. 

“Where am I going?” She asked confusedly as she held onto his arm for support while they walked down the hallway towards the elevator with Queenie holding her by the waist from the other side.

“I’m taking you home.” He reminded her gently as they stepped on to the elevator.

The three of them walked out of the building together trying to be as inconspicuous to the No-Majs as one could be while trying to guide a woman who kept losing consciousness.

At her apartment building, Queenie grabbed the keys from Edith’s skirt pocket and opened the doors for Percival who was now carrying his secretary in both arms. 

“Fifth floor.” Percival told Queenie, remembering which floor Edith lived on from the night he took her home before their trip to Syracuse. Carrying her up the stairs proved to be more difficult than anticipated as the stairs case was relatively narrow.

He had to stop on the third floor to catch his breath and while turning onto the landing for the fourth floor he accidentally slammed her knee on the banister which caused Queenie to scold him in the nicest way he had ever been before.

Queenie unlocked Edith’s apartment door and held it open as Percival slipped in with Edith cradled in his arms. Queenie closed the door, set down the keys, and shooed the cat off of Edith’s bed so that he could set her down.

He stood back and let Queenie take over as the blonde removed Edith’s shoes and tucked her under the covers.

Percival examined the apartment carefully. It was a small space, really just a single room with a dividing wall to separate the kitchen from the sleeping nook. All the walls were covered in a depressing brown striped wallpaper, the window coverings nothing more than rattan that was rolled up to let the natural daylight in. 

“Miss Goldstien,” Percival said as he looked over a table along the wall covered in numerous plants. Lavender, peppermint, valerian, elderberry.

“I trust I can leave Miss Matasen in your care.” He said, picking up a red book clothbound book and searching it for a title.

“Oh yes, Mr. Graves but I still have a lot of paperwork to get through.” She reminded him and he browsed the first few pages of the book to find it was all written in Latin.

“It’ll be taken care of. If Abernathy has a problem with my requisition of your time, he can come to me.” He said placing the book down and turning around to see Queenie staring at him from Edith’s beside through the oddly placed window in the wall dividing the room.

Percival didn’t need to ask Queenie about the look on her face. He knew it was an odd request, pulling a clerk from the Wand Permit office to nurse his secretary back to health.

“I suppose it can count as family leave.” Queenie pointed out, Percival nodded in agreement. Someone had to stay with Edith and keep the fever in check otherwise it could kill her. As the head of his department, his time was more valuable at MACUSA than Queenie’s, not to mention the gossip it would create.

“Mr. Graves,” Queenie said softly.

“You care for her an awful lot don’t you?” She asked, he didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Send me a pigeon if you need anything.” He instructed her before heading out back to headquarters.

Percival felt strange the rest of the day and found himself staring over at Edith’s empty desk several times. Queenie wasn’t wrong, he cared for Edith deeply and most days she consumed his thoughts. He felt guilty leaving Queenie to take care of her. She’d be fine, right?


	20. Chapter Twenty

Percival felt a growing heaviness in his chest each day that passed without Edith at the office. He hated walking in every morning to see her desk empty and realized he hadn’t appreciated the amount of menial paperwork she oversaw for him.

He also found himself with several questions that he never thought he’d have. Like, did he really spend that much a week on lunch? How did she manage to convince accounting to cover his unhealthy addiction to coffee? When did he accrue so much time-off this memo indicated it was mandatory for him to take before the New Year?

Needless to say, he was overwhelmed and wanted nothing more for Edith to come back so he could get back to actual fieldwork. It became something for Picquery to use against him jokingly; she’d pop by his office every other day to ask him how the expense report was coming along or if he could grab her a cup of coffee and a bagel, or pick up her dry cleaning.

It wasn’t just the unceasing amount of paperwork, he also just genuinely missed his headstrong secretary, though he would never admit that to anyone but himself.

He missed her face, the way the freckles strewed across it looked like the stars in the night sky. He missed her green eyes, the intensity they held, and the way he melted whenever she looked at him. 

He missed how one moment she would scold him and be in absolute dominance of a conversation and then the next she'd be silent and blushing because of something he said. Numerous times a day he’d stop everything and sit back in his chair, look out to her empty desk, and worry.

Queenie repeatedly assured him that she had everything under control, Edith did nothing but sleep between her meals and had an occasional outburst about how she was well enough to go back to work.

However, Percival and Queenie both knew that the worst had yet to come. Soon it would become harder for Edith to breathe and the fever would peak bringing with it the visions that made the illness so unbearable.

Sure enough, by the third Wednesday in August, he got a note from Queenie saying that they had started. What he hadn’t expected was another note from Queenie on Friday afternoon demanding that he relieve her of caring for Edith.

Percival left immediately after lunch for Edith’s apartment and before getting a chance to knock on the door Queenie flung it open looking frantic.

“I can’t do it anymore Mr. Graves.” She almost shouted as he entered the apartment and saw Edith lying in her bed, unconscious, covered in sweat, and breathing rapidly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked not understanding the urgency.

“What do you mean? You don’t FEEL all of that?” Queenie asked, shaking and throwing her hands in the air.

“Calm down.” He said softly, placing a gentle hand on both her arms.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” She said frazzled.

“Queenie, you asked me to send you home. I don’t see a problem here.” He pointed out. The blonde witch took a deep breath through her nose and tried to collect herself as she breathed out.

“Her heads got a lot of stuff in it and I-i, I can’t bear it anymore.” Queenie said in almost a whisper, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at him like a distraught child.

Percival had forgotten that Queenie was a natural Ligilimens, she often had trouble keeping out of other people's minds, it was why she continued working in the Wand Permit office even though she was bright enough to do more The department was severely understaffed which meant that it was quite.

He completely overlooked it and hadn’t considered what effects the visions would have on the mind of someone who often struggled to stay in their own. 

“Miss Goldstein, please go home and get some rest.” He told her sympathetically as he walked her towards the door.

“I’m really sorry Mr. Graves.” She apologized as she walked over the threshold of the door he held open for her.

“You did nothing wrong, in fact, you did an excellent job. I can handle it from here.” He told her with a warm smile and she gave him one back before starting down the stairs.

Percival closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, for the first time ever he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He had never taken care of anyone or anything before, he wasn’t even sure how he looked after himself.

He walked across the room and entered the sleeping nook where Edith lay suffering asleep in her bed which took up almost the entire space. 

He held the back of his hand to her forehead feeling how warm she was. She was burning up, and while holding two fingers against her neck to check her pulse, he noticed the dainty charm necklace she always wore.

He delicately picked up the charm from where it lay on her collarbone. He never took in the details of it before, there was a woman kneeling at an altar in prayer with an angel placing a halo over her head, and around her head were the words ‘STA RITA ORA PRO NOBIS’.

He set down the charm and glanced around, a large wardrobe stood no more than two feet from the end of the bed, and next to it was a woven basket filled with dirty linens. 

Squeezed between her bed and the dividing wall was a nightstand with several books piled on it and a small wooden box with the Hogwarts seal engraved in it, a relic from her school days no doubt.

Percival turned to head back to the other side of the room, nearly stepping on Edith’s cat who hissed furiously at him causing him to bump the vanity that sat along the wall. The nook was truly too small for so many things.

He grumbled at the cat and picked up her wand which had rolled off the vanity, setting it in front of several framed photos adorning it. He took a moment to look at the pictures, two were enchanted to move.

One showed a younger Edith standing alongside several of her classmates, all in their school uniforms with Albus Dumbledore at their side. The other enchanted photo showed Edith and Angelica with another girl, all standing together on the road of a small town.

The other three photos were not enchanted. One was of a woman, about Edith’s current age, lovingly holding a little girl in her arms while the child seemed to be laughing uncontrollably as children do. 

Another showed a boy in a ridiculous oversized outfit, sitting beside a little girl who stood on a chair. Percival recognized the little girl in both photos as Edith, which made the older woman her mother and the little boy her brother Eunan.

The last photo was of three men, dressed in muggle military uniforms, Percival noted that one of the elder men as her brother Eunan, who had grown into a strong young man but whose face still showed the child within him. 

Yes, that one was Edith’s brother no doubt and he looked remarkably nothing like his sister but very much like their mother both with dark hair and similar noses. Percival looked closer at the photo of Edith's brother in uniform. The other two young men in the image looked to be unrelated to the family and he hadn’t recalled Edith mentioning other brothers.

Edith’s cat had jumped on to the vanity, snapping him out of his study. The creature stuck its head into a cup that was left sitting next to the photographs, lapping at whatever contents had been left behind.

Percival picked up the cup, finally something he could do; wash a cup, and return it to the cupboard. He went back to the other side of the apartment and looked around, there was no cupboard, nor did he see a sink.

He explored the room more and found a small sink in the corner by the window across from a wood-burning stove. After cleaning and drying the cup, he looked for its proper home, which was a collection of dishes stacked neatly on a table between the sink and the desk which housed all the plants.

Not knowing what else to do, he took a seat at the two-person dining table next to the stove and sat quietly waiting for something to happen. He looked over at Edith through the dividing wall window, her state unchanged from when Queenie left. 

Percival leaned back in the chair and took in Edith’s apartment some more. The table with the dishes on it also had a variety of food items on it. Several canisters of tea, a jar of honey, a loaf of bread, a sack of flour, and a basket with several small squashes in it. 

The wall above had a string of garlic and corn hanging from it, along with a rack of tiny jars filled with herbs and spices, and… was that dragons’ blood? He chuckled to himself at the thought of Edith concocting potions on the woodburning stove.

It surprised him a bit to see how unmodernized her home was, she was No-Maj after all, or at least partly, he couldn’t remember her mentioning her father’s lineage. Either way, she knew how to use a typewriter and how to perform No-Maj medicine, yet she lived very much like a stereotypical witch.

No electric lights, no gas burning stove, no cold storage for food which he assumed meant she bought perishables the same day she intended to eat them. She even had a cauldron tucked under the sink next to a stockpot that looked to be older than he was.

He looked over again at Edith, she was still breathing heavily and sweating as she slept on her side cocooned in her blankets. That was when he first felt it, a thick almost electrical feeling that began to weigh him down. It was very much like the feeling you’d get when peering into someone's mind, but this was different, it was much heavier and it reached out to him trying to grab hold.

He shook his head to break himself of the sensation and took one of the newspapers from the pile that sat untouched on the kitchen table in an attempt to pass the time.

By the second paper, he had begun to doze off and when he checked the time it was almost two o’clock. He looked around the kitchenette and noted the lack of food in it and guessing she might be hungry soon he grabbed her keys where Queenie had left them and headed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get a detailed look at Edith’s apartment in this chapter! As mentioned previously, I did a lot of research into 1920s tenement housing in New York City. I referenced a lot of the information available at the Tenement Museum and photographs from the era to recreate something as realistic, albeit a lot nicer.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Percival didn’t have to go far, Edith’s neighborhood was filled with hawker stalls selling everything he needed. He wasn’t a good cook admittedly, but he made a palatable stew, something he remembered how to make from watching his mother and it was the only thing he ever made at home.

He returned back to her apartment and set down the small sack of potatoes, onions, and carrots he purchased along with the package of lamb shoulder. He grabbed the old cast iron stockpot from under the sink and set it on the table and took out his wand to light the oven.

That was when he noticed Edith’s empty bed through the partition window. He quickly rounded the dining table and stepped into the nook to check if she had somehow rolled off the bed, but she hadn’t, she was gone. 

He looked around the small apartment wondering how he lost a whole person when he saw her cat rubbing against a door. Percival approached the door and gave a knock and waited before precariously opening it to see that it was the bathroom. 

Sure enough, Edith laid in her nightgown with her hair strewn about, curled up on the tiled floor. He let out a sigh and came in further to bend down and feel her forehead. Her skin burned his as he touched it and brushed the hair from her face, the action waking her from sleep.

“Did you fall?” He asked gently, checking her head for any bumps.

“No.” She said miserably, shaking her head like a child.

“Uh-huh, so you just decided to lay on the bathroom floor?” He asked, she nodded.

“It’s cold and it feels nice.” She grumbled and Percival just sighed a bit overwhelmed. He helped her sit before scooping her up in both arms and carrying her back to her bed, tucking her under a lightweight blanket and pulling the thick comforter off to the side.

“I’ll be right back.” He told her, she just closed her eyes and nodded. Percival went back to the bathroom and grabbed a clean washcloth from a basket under the sink, soaking it in cold water, ringing it out, and folding it before coming back to Edith and placing it on her forehead.

He watched her from where he stood for a few minutes before heading back to the kitchenette. He untied the twine holding the parcel of lamb shoulder together and grabbed the only knife he could find, cubing it into large chunks before washing the knife and cutting the potatoes, carrots, and onions in a similar manner

He oiled the bottom of the pot and browned the meat briefly after seasoning it with the herbs Edith already had in her kitchen before moving it to an empty dish and tossing the carrots and onions into the pot with some flour. 

He let them cook for a few minutes before adding water and scraping the bottom of the pan to keep them from sticking before finally adding the potatoes and lamb back to the pot with the bone, stirring it and then popping the lid on and turning down the heat.

“Are you making me burnt eggs?” Edith mumbled from the bed, eyes still closed, barely conscious. He chuckled, remembering that he once told her that burnt eggs were the only thing he knew how to make.

“I will let you starve.” He warned her jokingly as he washed his hands and came over to check on her. Edith had rolled over onto her side so her back was to him, the washcloth on her head had fallen off. 

He picked it up and placed it back on her head before tripping over the cat again and cursing at the impossible creature. It jumped onto her bed and stared him down before deeming him uninteresting and moving to sit by the window. Edith’s cat was a peculiar thing, much larger and more robust than a typical cat with well-defined stripes and a thick tail.

He went back to the other room and sat picking up the newspaper and returning to the story he had been reading before dozing off earlier. About an hour later he checked in the stew all the while locked in a staring contest with the infernal cat who seemed to be sizing Percival up.

By the time the food was done around 4:30, the cat began to howl as it repeatedly tapped at the bedroom window. Percival tried ignoring it and focusing on the newspaper, but the feline continued its incessant howling before letting out a terrible scream that caused a very disgruntled Edith to spring awake. 

She laid back down holding her chest as the cat crawled over to her and began gnawing at her fingers. Edith waved her hand, the window slid open and the cat went running out onto the fire escape before disappearing completely.

“Your cat is a nuisance.” Percival said closing the newspaper and setting it aside before standing and grabbing a bowl from the stack of dishes on the other table.

“You make him nervous.” She mumbled, throwing her hand over her face to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun pouring through the window and waved her hand again so that the rattan window covering unrolled and blocked it out.

Percival came into the sleeping nook and grabbed the cotton robe hanging from one of the metal bedposts before nudging Edith to sit up. She complied, sitting up slowly with the blanket still clutched to her chest in some attempt at modesty like he hadn’t seen her passed out on the bathroom floor in just her nightgown earlier. That sinful nightgown.

He held open the robe as she slid both arms in and tied it around her waist before helping her to her feet and taking slow steps together as they walked to the dining table. Edith swayed and wilted in his arms before he could get her to the chair, suddenly and violently gasping for air.

He gently guided her to the floor to sit as he kneeled in front of her while she shook and tightly gripped both his arms as she struggled to find her breath. This was the worst part of catching the fever; the body would boil until you couldn’t breathe and in the panic, you would relive your darkest moments.

So it wasn’t surprising to Percival when Edith’s eyes became very distant and filled with tears as she struggled to breathe. However, it was still painful to watch her shaking in front of him as she endured the assault on her body and mind. She began to openly sob as the shaking subsided and she slumped forward. Percival just held the back of her head and shushed her as she wept into the empty space between them.

He could feel the burden of her emotions dripping from her mind, she was trying desperately to keep it all in. Panic is what killed most witches and wizards, others from the strain of trying to keep their composure.

After some time like that, he helped her back to her feet and sat her in the dining chair before serving her a bowl of the stew. She ate slowly, never looking up at him, only nodding when he asked if it was to her liking. He made her a cup of tea before helping her back to bed where she curled up, robe still on.

To say Percival felt way in over his head would have been an understatement. He was sure there was more he could have been doing than watching her sleep but in reality, there wasn’t, it was just one of those things she had to ride out.

Percival took off his tie and waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves as he cleaned up after dinner. The sun had begun to set and he turned on the gas lamp in the kitchen which was surprisingly strong enough to fill the room with a warm glow as he sat at the table and watched Edith toss and turn in her sleep.

Around nine o’clock the cat came strolling back in through the window before stopping at the edge of the bed and staring at Percival as if to say ‘what are you still doing here’.

The night dragged out bitterly as Percival dipped in and out of sleep as he sat at the dining table, checking on Edith every time he woke feeling that her fever was growing more intense. Queenie hadn’t been wrong, she mostly slept uninterrupted although twice he was abruptly woken from his own sleep by the sound of her gasping for air as another fit ravaged her body.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, helping her sit up as she shook and telling her gently that she was going to be alright. The fits lasted a few minutes but when they were over her eyes rolled back and she collapsed into the pillows.

After the last fit, Percival stayed beside her, his own heart pounding, anxiety creeping in as he felt a wave of it leave her mind and suddenly come crashing down on the door of his. 

He finally started to understand why Queenie had cracked so easily. Edith’s mind hadn’t just opened, it had begun to overflow and force itself onto Queenie’s and now his.

He retreated to the dining table where he focused on steadying his heartbeat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that anxious and it unsettled him because he had worked very hard his entire life to keep a level head and refrain from becoming so… unhinged.

Leaning back and closing his eyes he breathed deeply until he had finally relaxed and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lower East Side, specifically Ludlow Street was notorious for the number of hawker stalls and pushcart vendors that lined it during the 1920s. I have Percival make an Irish Stew in this chapter and finding an appropriate recipe for this was super difficult. I wanted it to be as simple as possible so that even a man who supposedly burns eggs could not screw it up but many of the recipes I found included so many extra vegetables, beef or chicken stock, and even Guinness beer. Being that Percival would be limited to what he found in the neighborhood and prohibition was in full swing at the time I managed to find the most traditional recipe I could which literally included nothing but meat, potatoes, carrots, onions, and water. 
> 
> On another note, I wanted Edith’s cat (Larocco as mentioned in an earlier chapter) to be a bit of a jerk, he’s greatly inspired by two stray cats I’ve cared for. Larocco is in fact supposed to be a Scottish Wildcat, which is slightly larger than a domesticated cat and currently listed as a critically endangered species. I really like the idea of Edith just casually taking care of this wildcat until it ultimately decided that she was an acceptable human to live with, although he does enjoy leaving the house to hunt for his own food.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I just want to sincerely thank you all for following this story. Your commitment means so much to me, this is the first time I have ever posted something I've written and your feedback has been amazing! I look forward to continuing on this long (much longer than I expected) journey with you. 
> 
> So here we go, Chapter Twenty-Two!
> 
> WARNING: The following chapter may be difficult for some to read. There are descriptions of war wounds, abuse, and psychological trauma.

Percival woke on Saturday morning to Edith’s cat sitting across from him at the table with an ill-tempered look upon its face. They watched each other for a moment before Percival stood and stretched trying to release the tension in his back and shoulders that had built up during the night from sleeping in a chair. 

The summer had decided to be most unkind as the heat already sat at an uncomfortable temperature as the sun broke free of the horizon. Percival made his way to the bathroom and turned on the sink, splashing cold water on his face and wiping down the back of his neck.

Back in the kitchen he cast a charm on the kettle which floated over to the sink, filled itself with water, and set down on the stove which he had already lit. He stood next to the window and watched as dozens of No-Majs set up their businesses for the day before hoisting the window open in an attempt to cool the apartment down.

He made his way over to Edith who splayed out on her back having abandoned her robe on the floor sometime during the night and kicked her blankets off to a distant corner of the bed. 

He went over to the second window behind the head of the bed and opened it as well before placing his hand on her forehead, she felt like a furnace. He took a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with cold water before returning to her and dunking a clean washcloth into the liquid, ringing it out and wiping the sweat from her brow.

He stayed beside her for a while, using the rag to cool her fiery skin. Edith finally woke when another fit ran through her body, startling him. She inhaled sharply seeking air while he held her to keep her from hurting herself as she shook. When it passed he gently laid her back onto the pillows as she closed her eyes and focused on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“I can’t take it.” She mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re going to be fine.” He assured her, pushing the hair from her face. She had become paler than she was yesterday except for her cheeks that burned red from the fever.

“It hurts.” She cried, turning her face away from him, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breathing.

“You could share it with me.” He told her.

“I don’t want to!” She shouted with a harsh gasp, as she rolled away from him and curled up into a ball.

“Edith,” He called softly as she stroked the back of her head as she buried her face in a pillow.

“It hurts too much!” She shouted into her pillow. He wasn’t going to try arguing with her, he just stood up and made Edith a strong cup of tea after the kettle on the stove began to whistle. He brought it to her in bed, but she barely touched it as she stared vacantly at the wall.

He found himself in the bathroom again, washing his face with cold water and resigning himself to staying in his undershirt. His dress shirt was still decent, he just couldn’t stand the feeling of being buttoned up so properly in the days growing heat.

The day proved to be a difficult one for them both, Percival eased her through three more episodes before lunch and another five by the time she finished the dinner he brought to her in bed.

After dinner, he helped her to the bathroom where she bathed as he sat outside the open door staring at the ceiling and listening to make sure she didn’t fall again or accidentally drown herself. 

When she was done and dressed in a clean nightgown, this one much longer and her robe he helped her back to bed. Her hair was a mess as she sat under the covers, holding her hairbrush but too despondent to actually use it.

Percival sat on the edge of the bed beside her, took the brush from her, and placed it on the vanity. The fever was eating away at her, it was evident, the more she tried to keep herself together, the more violent her fits had become.

“Edith, you’re only hurting yourself.” He told her, she didn’t answer him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of sharing it with me.” He reminded her.

“I’m fine.” She told him, her voice hoarse.

Percival became frustrated and grabbed her by both arms and forced her to face him, she struggled against him and tried pushing him away repeatedly telling him that she would be fine. He stood up and pulled her towards him until she sat on her knees at the edge of the bed.

“Edith, please.” He said taking her face gently in both his hands she began to shake and gasp for air as another fit began to work its way through her.

“I’ve got you.” He assured her, entangling his fingers in her wet hair. He didn’t know how to make her understand that he would do everything to ease her pain, even share in it. It was hard for him to admit it, but she had worked her way into his heart.

“Let me in.” He urged her softly, their eyes locked as he used his thumb to wipe away the tears that had started to roll down her cheek.

“Why?” She asked through her tears. He didn’t understand the question.

“Why does it matter to you!?” She screamed at him frantically.

“Because I care about you more than I should and I don’t want to see you suffer anymore.” Percival said, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers. His heart was racing, he hoped she knew he was sincere. Edith was quiet and had stopped shaking, her breathing was still rapid but more steady. 

The air around them had grown thick and oppressive and it felt like it would crush him. In an instant, the dam she had built around her mind had shattered and they could do nothing but stand there together on the river bank as the water rushed towards them. 

Percival was struck hard by a wave of sadness that washed over him as the apartment and Edith disappeared. He found himself alone in a void, the sound of muffled voices shouting in the distance.

Percival slowly headed towards where the voices were coming from, unsure of where he was and as he drew closer to the voices, an old wooden door appeared and the shouts became louder.

“You sold your soul to the devil!” a woman shouted from the other side.

“It isn’t the devil's work!” A man shouted back back and just before Percival went to push the door open, cutlery clanged from behind him.

When he turned back he saw Edith, no more than four years old sitting at a table staring back at him as her brother brought a spoonful of porridge to her mouth before she took a big bite out of it in the messy way that small children do. 

The shouts from behind the door got louder, the woman began screaming at the man to leave and the man begged and cried for her to let him stay.

“Everything is going to be fine.” Eunan said, picking his sister up from her seat and they both collapsed into a cloud of smoke along with the table and the wooden door.

Not far from where Percival stood, several pews appeared and a seven-year-old Edith sat by herself among them as her mother spoke in frantic whispers to a priest.

“She’s not like Eunan, she’s strange and I’ve seen her do things that are not natural.” Her mother whispered to the priest.

“A child born to the Devil cannot be saved, my dear.” The priest whispered back before patting her shoulder gently and walking away.

Splashes and screaming sounded from behind him and Percival turned quickly to see a teenage Eunan throw his mother to the floor and pull Edith from an overfilled bathtub.

“What is wrong with you!?” He shouted as he clutched his sobbing sister in his arms and carried her away.

“I won’t let mum hurt you, I promise.” Eunan said as he tucked Edith into bed. 

“She thinks I’m possessed.” She cried back to him.

“You are not possessed, dear Edith.” An older man's voice said softly from behind Percival and when he turned around yet again he saw Edith sitting alongside Albus Dumbledore on a park bench.

“Hogwarts is not a place for you to be fixed, it is a place for you to learn how to use your gifts. You are special beyond measure, your brother is proud of that and has agreed to let you attend if you so wish.” Dumbledore informed her.

A bright red steam engine train zoomed past Percival and down the corridor of a castle as it filled with hundreds of children in school robes. There was laughter and Edith now about thirteen walked along with a smile on her face as Angelica jumped on her back as schoolgirls do.

Tall grass grew out of the stone floor and turned everything into a field, with farms off in the distance. A boy chased after Edith before catching her by the waist and turned her to face him.

“You are the biggest pain in my arse Edith Matasen.” He laughed as she took his face and kissed him fiercely.

But the sky grew dark and the laughter died down until everything was black. A single candle flickered on a nightstand and Eunan sat next to Edith, only a year or two older now.

“I don’t make enough tending the Whalen’s grounds. I can take better care of you and mum. I can pay for you to get better school books. I won’t be gone for long I promise.” He told her as she sat there trying to hold back tears. 

The room faded and Edith was sitting back in the field with the boy she had kissed, it was then that Percival recognized him as the youngest of the two other men standing next to Eunan in the photograph by her bed.

“I just don’t understand why you have to go.” She cried as he took her hand in his.

“You would be with a coward then? Eunan and Thomas Whalen are there doing what is right and you’d have me just sit here?” He asked her sharply.

“You’re not even old enough William!” She shouted at him.

“I’m coming right back to you.” He assured her.

“Don’t you think twice about that and when I do get back I’m going to marry you.” William told her.

The wind picked up all the grass and blew the scene away and brought Percival to a city street where a line of men, some wounded, missing limbs, and others looking like empty shells while, waited for food.

Through a window he saw Edith, now a young woman no more than eighteen, sitting in a classroom filled with other young women in grey dresses. A much older woman stood at the front of the room reviewing the proper way to administer a particular medicine.

As it began to rain, Percival ducked into a doorway only to find himself at a table where Edith sat with swollen red eyes, as the third man in the photograph handed her a parcel.

“My father will pay for the arrangements. If you two need anything…” He said gently.

“Thank you Thomas.” She whispered and he walked away as Edith looked at her mother who sat by the fireplace. Edith opened the parcel, a military uniform sliding out into her shaking hands.

“Do you want him next to Nan?” She asked her mother hoarsely, but her mother didn’t answer, she just continued to look into the fire.

“Mum, did you hear me?” Edith asked through her tears.

“It is all your fault.” Her mother said sharply.

“You killed Eunan. You and that devil's curse you carry.” Her mother spat, never looking at her daughter.

“You took my **_only_ ** child from me.” Her mother said staring at the flames as tears rolled down her cheeks. Edith got up and left, slamming the door behind her so hard that it swung back open and Percival ran out after her.

The rain continued to pour down, turning the ground into a sloppy, muddy mess as hundreds of uniformed men moved about carrying others on stretchers with wounds so horrendous it was almost impossible to tell if the body was ever a person to begin with. 

Amongst the chaos, he saw Edith tuck into a tent and he quickly followed after her. Inside, it was dark but he could see Edith laying awake bundled in a sleeping bag alongside several others. The sounds of No-Maj artillery sounded in the distance, everything shook as canons blasted away and tears rolled down her face.

There was a shout and an explosion that caused the tent to collapse around Percival. He climbed his way out of the debris to see Edith clinging tightly to William who had become a strapping young man.

“We’re heading out to Belgium tomorrow. It shouldn’t be more than a week before you catch up.” He said holding her close and kissing her tenderly.

Percival felt a sense of dread and couldn’t help but feel like he already knew what was to come as they parted and William left trudging through the mud and rain as Percival followed Edith into a heavily damaged building. 

She was nothing more than a crumpled heap in the arms of an older nurse, crying out in pain as a white sheet was thrown over William who laid in front of them bloody and with part of his jaw blown away.

“We cannot give into despair love.” The older woman said as she held Edith as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“More men will die today, and tomorrow and the next day. We must carry on as good women do.” The woman said as she sat the distraught Edith up and handed her a roll of bandages.

Percival watched as Edith wiped the tears from her eyes and stood to begin tending to the bodies that began to surround them. He followed Edith from bed to bed watching some men recover while others held her hand tightly as they took their last breaths. Her eyes were always red, always distant.

An Italian soldier's hands shook as he took off the necklace he wore around his neck, it was the same one she now wore daily and it was only now he realized the importance of it as the soldier placed it over Edith’s head.

“Santa Rita non può più proteggermi. Possa lei tenerti al sicuro mentre continui il suo lavoro.” The soldier wheezed as he began to choke and spit up blood.

Percival found it hard to watch but out the corner of his eye, he could see Edith never once looked away. The man’s death dragged out, his crying and wheezing like a dark symphony that ended abruptly. 

Edith stood and walked down a hospital corridor where around her witches and wizards seemed to be suffering a variety of terminal conditions. Several screamed in pain, while others looked crazed and one floated above their bed tethered to the frame by their ankle. Percival continued to follow Edith to a room where her mother lay in a bed dying. 

“Come here.” Her mother said, holding out her hand for Edith to take.

“You dark unholy beast.” Her mother said hoarsely. Edith’s eyes filled with tears as she pulled her hand away.

“Even at the end, you can’t just tell me you love me?” Edith begged.

“I stopped loving you long ago and may anyone who thinks of loving you come to their senses before your curse of death descends upon them.” Her mother hissed.

Percival watched from the corner of the room as everything faded away until he was utterly alone with nothing but the sound of gentle crying. He looked around but couldn’t find the source, so he did his best to follow it in the darkness.

As the crying got closer, a shape started to form, it was Edith’s and she sat in a chair hunched over as one hand held tightly to the necklace around her neck and the other held her waist. She was struggling to control her breathing as she cried. A room formed around her and he recognized it as the room from the lodge in Syracuse.

Edith’s hands were stained red and her shirt was covered in blood, her hair was a mess and she stared across the room. He didn’t bother to look at what had her attention, he knew it was himself, passed out on the bed with a gunshot wound.

His heart hurt, and he tried to reach out to her and assure her that he was fine but his hand passed right through her and the scene vanished so that he was back in the dark void. 

Percival tried to stay calm as distress rose in him but every time he was close to stability he was struck by a wave. One by one they slammed into him. Fear, doubt, agony, depression, loneliness, anger, anxiety, frustration; it became unbearable and he began to panic as the void started closing in on him.

In the chaos, he found Edith, his Edith, the one that still sat on her knees at the edge of the bed with her forehead pressed to his.

“Do you see them?” She whispered to him and when he glanced around he saw the mangled bloody bodies of dozens of soldiers, women and children, witches and wizards, Eunan, William, and her mother standing mere inches from them. 

“They stalk my dreams and haunt me while I’m awake. They tell me I am a ghost and I believe them. I am silent and invisible to the world.” She said with tears coming back to her eyes, Percival looked back at her and firmly held her face as he placed a gentle, grazing kiss on her lips.

“I feel you, I hear you. I see you and you are beautiful. You’re not a ghost Edith.” He told her as he pulled her into a hug that enveloped her fragile and feverish frame. He held her tightly, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding her head to his chest as she wept, both her hands clutching tightly to the sides of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people who lived through WWI are often referred to as The Lost Generation in reference to how little history talks about them and the insurmountable sacrifices they made. The war saw the rapid development and modernization of military weaponry from tanks, fighter planes, and chemical weapons. It was an entirely new kind of warfare that killed and injured people in the most horrific ways possible and led to the term ‘Shell Shock’ which many now know as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. In 1914, in the United Kingdom, many men who volunteered for the war didn’t expect it to last as long as it did and by 1916 the draft was initiated because of how few men there were to sustain the armed forces. Many teenage boys also enlisted despite being underage. The youngest known soldier to serve in the British Army was a twelve-year-old boy and in Serbia, an eight-year-old fought alongside the Serbian resistance. It is estimated that there were 9 million combatant deaths and 13 million civilian deaths as a direct result of the war. 
> 
> Eunan tells Edith that he decided to become a soldier so he can better financially care for their family. In the 1920s a groundskeeper in the United Kingdom would make about $1800 (USD) annually, while a soldier would make about $4000 (USD) annually. For him, it seemed the most logical choice to go to war. William, on the other hand, joined out of a sense of duty, many men admitted they only joined because they felt pressured by family, friends, and society. Men who didn’t join the war were often publicly shamed as cowards. Thomas Whalen, who is mentioned as the third man in the photo is the son of the wealthy landowner Eunan worked for. When Eunan died, Thomas’s father covered the funeral expenses for Edith and her mother. Edith and her mother did receive a pension for Eunan’s service, which was how she paid for her mother’s care while she worked as a nurse on the Western Front and eventually for her funeral services when she passed away.
> 
> The Italian soldier who gave Edith the necklace was the last soldier she treated before returning to civilian life. His words translate as “Saint Rita can no longer protect me. May she keep you safe while you continue her work.” Saint Rita is the patron saint of impossible causes, widows, the sick, bodily ills, and wounds. If you don’t mind crying your eyes out and you'd like to better understand the soldier’s perspectives on the war, watch Peter Jackson’s 2018 documentary ‘They Shall Not Grow Old’. The film uses colorized archival photos, videos, and audio interviews to reveal the details of daily life in training and in combat.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Percival held Edith close as she cried and gasped for air, she was distraught and he didn’t blame her. The fever unleashed her darkest memories, of which there seemed to be an endless number of.

After a while, he tucked her under the blankets to try and get her to sleep, but she just lay there, unmoving and staring out the window. His access to her mind had gone as quickly as it had come and once again she was alone with her trauma. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the photos that sat on her vanity, particularly the one of her brother and the boy William. He thought about her father's voice from behind the closed door begging her mother to let him stay and all the cruel words she had for her daughter. To be so young, fresh out of school, practically still a child, and have witnessed so much pain and death. He thought about seventeen-year-old Edith laying there in a tent on the frontlines crying herself to sleep.

He thought about the last scene most, he wondered how long she sat there that night crying as he lay there wounded. He never wanted to be the cause of her distress. He sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder at her, still staring out the window as the sun began to set.

“How do you feel?” He asked, holding his hand to her forehead, she nodded and sure enough, he found that the fever began to subside although it still lingered. As he moved his hand away Edith grabbed it.

She pulled him towards her until he sat beside her with his back against the metal bed frame. Edith moved closer to him, resting her head just below his and curling up against him seeking his comfort.

“Will you stay with me until tomorrow?” She asked him in an almost whisper. He buried his face into her hair, bringing his arm around her waist to draw her closer.

“Of course.” He said. He would stay forever if she asked.

In the warmth of the evening they lay there together, their bodies so close the sensation lulled them to sleep. Edith slept throughout the night without any more fits and for the first time in two days, Percival was able to rest comfortably.

He only woke once during the night when the cat jumped on him. He groaned and pushed it away, before turning on his side and pulling Edith, who had drifted away, closer to him. She breathed easily as she slept beside him and he wanted nothing more than to stay like that with her.

Any reasonable man would have thought it best to leave a woman as broken as Edith alone, but he wasn’t exactly a reasonable man, nor did he think she was broken. Damaged and slightly fragile, absolutely, but also resilient and capable of so much kindness; he wouldn’t have her any other way.

Edith was an accumulation of experiences that made her into the no-nonsense, brash, intelligent, and stubborn woman he had come so greatly to admire. And as he lay there with her wrapped up in his arms, between sleep and awake, something stirred within him. 

It was an intense emotion, one he hadn’t recalled feeling before, and simultaneously brought him fear and happiness. ‘Is this love?’ he asked himself as he drifted off to sleep once more.

Sunday morning brought cooler temperatures and a drastic improvement in Edith’s health. When he woke up, he found himself alone in the bed as Edith sat in her robe on the fire escape with the cat in her lap.

He sat up against the metal bed frame and watched her as she watched the world move about without her. She looked much more like herself, he thought.

The cat noticed Percival first and growled at him from Edith’s lap, which caused her to peek back through the open window to see he was now awake. Percival stood from the bed and came towards the window, pulling himself through it and taking a seat on one of the steps to the apartment above.

“Do you mind?” He asked as he reached into his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes.

“No sir.” She said quietly. The formality caught his attention and he raised an eyebrow at her as he held a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match to light it but she just kept her eyes down.

“You’re not allowed to call me ‘sir’ outside of work.” He tried to joke as he pulled on his cigarette and looked down onto the street at all the No-Majs going about their morning.

“Yes, Mister Graves.” She said and when he looked over at her she was petting the cat and staring off in another direction.

“Edith.” He said more seriously. She was trying to keep him away. Trying to unfeel the vulnerability she felt last night and trying to ignore that he told her he cared for her deeply, trying to ignore that he kissed her, trying to ignore that she let him see she also cared for him.

“Why do you do this?” He asked her and she looked at him a bit cross, before pushing the cat out of her lap and climbing back through the window. Percival let out a sigh and finished his cigarette before heading back inside.

“Please leave.” She asked firmly as she sat at her vanity with her head in her hands. Percival sat on the edge of the bed and put on his shoes.

“I meant everything.” He told her.

“I don’t doubt you.” She replied as she turned to face him.

“Then why do you revert back to formalities? Why do you always pretend like there isn’t something here?” He asked her, he didn’t understand why she tried to keep herself closed off.

“Have you never lost anyone?” She asked but he didn’t reply.

“I’ve watched everyone I love buried.” She said and Percival suddenly felt very stupid.

It finally clicked in his head, she was hesitant, if not apprehensive to let herself feel anything for anyone, she had already lost so much. It was why she was unable to bring herself to admit she felt anything for him. She took his face in both her hands and leaned in close to him, pressing her forehead to his.

“Percival,” She said weakly as he pressed one side of his face deeper into the palm of her hand and she was silent for longer than she probably meant.

“I’m scared I’m going to have to bury you too.” She admitted finally with angst in her eyes and Percival’s heart sank.

“My dear, I promise you will not be burying me anytime so, only once I’m much older and grayer than I am now.” He assured her, rubbing his nose against hers.

“Be patient with me.” She asked, and he gave her a small smile and nodded, he’d do just about anything for her. 

Edith closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, pressing her lips to his in the sweetest way imaginable. Percival melted in her hands, he had kissed her last night but it was such a gentle kiss that their lips touched only briefly. This kiss was deeper, full of longing but still delicate and innocent. He swore the world could have ended there and he would have been none the wiser.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Percival had to restrain himself from kissing Edith again before he went home that Sunday, after all, she asked him for patience and he didn’t want to push her away. She just looked so beautiful as she stood at the door to see him off and she looked beautiful on Monday morning when he came into the office to find her sitting at her desk.

He watched her closely every day that week as she beat back the pile of redundant paperwork he failed to get through in her absence. Edith never once complained though, even though she worked straight through lunch multiple days in a row.

On Thursday, he had to step out to investigate another killing by the Brotherhood. Just before he left, Edith came into his office and shut the door behind her.

“Miss Matasen.” He acknowledged, and she grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger before holding it open for him.

“Please be careful.” She told him quietly as he slipped his arms into the jacket and turned to her.

“Of course.” He said, brushing his fingers along her cheek, which caused her to blush before she quickly retreated out of the office and back to her own desk.

Percival was acutely aware of how much the dynamic between them shifted, they had both made their feelings known and needed to tread cautiously, not just for her emotional sake, but for the sake of their professional careers. 

He was, after all, her boss and while workplace romance wasn’t entirely discouraged, he was the head of his department and that meant the rules were much stricter for him.

Besides, he refused to subject Edith to the unrelenting gossip that fluttered through the building as it did for others. Everyone knew Marcus Minus was cheating on his wife during work hours, and everyone knew a few of the more ambitious witches methodically seduced their way up the ladder.

He’d be damned if any such rumor came into existence about her, so they tiptoed lightly around each other. Stealing glances throughout the day and flirting cautiously when they worked late and the building had mostly emptied.

One thing that Percival did not like surrendering was their lunches together. It wasn’t so much a precaution that took the time from them, it was just that it took a while for Edith’s workload to lighten from being out for two weeks.

Lunch was their time to relax but mostly, it was one of the very few times he could openly flirt with her as they blended into the crowds of No-Majs. When she finally cleared her desk of the mountains of paperwork he informed her they were getting lunch, not giving her a choice as he grabbed her jacket and purse and took off down the hallway without her. 

Edith snatched her things back from him when she caught up with him in the elevator. He tried to refrain from smiling at her as Marcus Minus stepped on after them, refusing to give anyone at MACUSA any indication that he had feelings for his secretary.

At the restaurant, they sat together at their usual table and ordered their usual fair; steak and eggs, griddle cakes and rashers, and an obscene amount of coffee and tea. 

She appeared to be in absolute bliss as she ate the griddle cakes, probably because she’d been stuffing her face with toast while stuck in the office. Percival smiled as he watched her from behind his cup of coffee.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She said as she took a sip of her tea. Percival couldn’t help but look at her, she had worn her hair differently today, abandoning the false bob and opting to tie her hair up in a way that made her look like a sweet but sophisticated woman.

“Like what?” Percival teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Like that.” She said sharply, trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh, you mean my bedroom eyes.” He said matter of factly with the most serious face he could muster. She rolled her eyes and set down her cup at a loss for words but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.

“You’re impossible.” She laughed, shaking her head at him with condemnation.

“No, I’m captivated.” He corrected her with a smile, taking her hand in his. He’d flirt with her until the end of time just to watch her get flustered. 

Just as she was about to respond, his face turned serious and he pulled his hand away as he saw Rensselaer Harwood, the head of the Wizarding Resources Department, walk into the restaurant. Edith also spotted him and switched back into her professional demeanor as Percival hoped to hell they wouldn’t be spotted.

“Ah, Mr. Graves, Miss Matheson! Out for lunch, I see.” Rensselaer called as he noticed them and bypassed the host to come up to their table.

“Mr. Harwood.” Percival acknowledged dryly and Edith just nodded along.

“Mind if I join?” Rensselaer said, signaling the host who brought him a chair and a menu, Rensselaer declined the menu and asked for coffee. Edith sat up straighter in her chair as Rensselaer squeezed in around the table with them, her face had gone white, no doubt due to panic.

“Glad to see two of MACUSA’s busiest workers out for a bit of lunch.” Rensselaer said as the host placed an empty cup on the table and poured in fresh coffee before leaving the pot on the table and walking away.

“I’m surprised you also managed to escape the clutches of paperwork.” Percival said, trying to keep polite conversation.

“It has been very busy down in Resources.” Rensselaer acknowledged.

“Pigeons and notes every day from frantic folk asking what Congress’ plan is to deal with these Brotherhood fellows.” Rensselaer, Percival knew this was a slight jab at him, after all, he was in charge of the investigation.

“We are not at the office though, so enough chit-chat about politics. It is great to see you’ve recovered from your bout of fever Miss Matheson.” Rensselaer said sweetly.

“Thank you sir.” She said politely but still clearly tense.

“Very kind of Miss Goldstein to look after you. I was surprised to see that Abernathy approved her for family leave.” Rensselaer commented.

“Ah, yes, well that was my doing.” Percival admitted casually. 

“See, Miss Matasen doesn’t have any family in the country. Miss Goldstein and her sister have been kind enough to open their home to her.” Percival explained and it wasn’t a total lie, Queenie had invited Edith over numerous times, she just never actually went.

“Oh well, that’s nice.” Rensselaer said looking at Edith with a smile.

“I hope you’ll use your time off to go see your family this year.” He encouraged her, clearly not knowing that she had no living relatives.

“I-i thought I used all my time when I was out sick.” She fumbled, looking at Rensselaer quizzically.

“Dear girl, with all the overtime you’ve worked, you still have a week's worth of mandatory time off under your belt.” Rensselaer laughed.

“Speaking of, Mr. Graves, you have three weeks of mandatory time off. Please use them, Madame President will throw a fit if you don’t use them.” Rensselaer said with a desperate plea.

“What is with that woman and time off?” Percival grumbled.

“She’s probably sick of seeing your face.” Edith couldn’t help but joke rather boldly. Rensselaer snapped his head towards her, shocked to see that she would dare make a joke at Percival’s expense.

“Thank you for your insight Miss Matasen.” Percival said as he tried very hard not to smile.

“Please just take the time off. I don’t care where you go, just don’t come to the office.” Rensselaer begged and he sipped his coffee. It was obvious that work was stressing the wizard out, he was probably running around all day shouting at people to stop working so much. Things at MACUSA had been very busy this year and Seraphina truly hated having to pay people overtime.

“Oh, is that the time?” Rensselaer said suddenly as he glanced at his watch.

“Meeting?” Percival inquired.

“Yes, my son is coming in from Spain with his bride to be. I’m meeting them here for lunch.” Rensselaer said pridefully.

“Congratulations.” Edith offered. Rensselaer bid them both farewell and had the host escort him to the table he reserved. 

Percival and Edith sat there quietly staring at their empty plates before she asked if they were done. Percival nodded quickly and paid their bill, making note not to stand too close to her as they left the restaurant.

“Well, that was thrilling.” He joked a few blocks away from the restaurant. Edith just glared at him over her shoulder.

“Relax. We go to lunch all the time.” He reminded her.

“Yes, but we don’t make ‘bedroom eyes’ at each other all the time.” She said flustered and in an almost whisper.

“Well you don’t but I definitely do.” He teased, she just gave him a disappointed look and he moved quickly in front of her to stop her from walking.

“Edith, we’ll find a new restaurant, further from the office. Does that sound good?” He asked brushing a few strands of hair from her face and she thought about it for a moment before nodding at him.

“Good. Your hair looks very pretty by the way.” He said unable to suppress the smile that crossed his face as he looked down at her.

“Careful Mister Graves. I might do something crazy like hold your hand.” She teased as she walked around him with a devilish smirk on her face. He watched her saunter away as he stood there biting his lower lip before catching up with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I know this is a super slow burn but we are going to get there I promise. We still have some hoops to jump through, some hurdles to crash into, and remember this is the 1920s. The world was still coming out of the Victorian and Edwardian eras where modesty ruled and Percival having lunch with his secretary could be seen as a scandal! The fact that he flirts with her would be perverse by society's standards. While the 1920s gave us the flapper and jazz it was still conservative. 
> 
> It is also why in previous chapters Percival and Edith are so timid in their interactions, and he is also about twelve to thirteen years older than her, which wasn’t uncommon during the time period but means that he treads more carefully around Edith because, well, he has no idea how experienced she is in the ways of love!


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

“We need to rethink our strategy.” Percival stressed as he sat around the conference table with the other department heads, top Aurors, and President Picquery.

“Hardly seems like you had a strategy before.” Ronald Sisk said rather blatantly. Percival hated Ronald Sisk and he rarely hated anyone, but as the head of the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation, it became very easy for Percival to despise the man.

“Mr. Sisk, it’s your job to track down these zealots. How can I do my job if you aren’t doing yours?” Percival shot.

“Alright, boys.” Seraphina chimed in sternly before one of them boiled over.

“Mr. Sisk, why hasn’t your team been able to track these people down? For goodness sakes, they’re a bunch of No-Majs.” Seraphina said, clearly as frustrated as everyone else in the room.

“That’s just it. They’re No-Majs, it’s not like they’re a bunch of magical teenagers with a trace on them.” Ronald pointed out.

“So we know absolutely nothing about them?” Fraleigh Rakow asked. Fraleigh was one of the department heads to have been kept out of the loop on the Brotherhood these last few months. 

Up until today, Percival had advised that information be kept strictly within the departments that directly dealt with crime and security. Fraleigh was the chairwoman of the Department of No-Maj Misinformation, terrorism was slightly above her pay grade and her job was to keep wizards from fearing the No-Maj community.

“We know quite a bit actually.” Marcus Minus assured her. Yes, up until today only those who needed to know, were aware of the details of the investigation into the Brotherhood.

But up until today the killings and attacks were mostly random and without explanation, that is, until this morning when news came in from the Governor of Magic for the State of Virginia that their most recent incident was… different.

“Is someone going to tell us what’s going on?” Merable Hicks asked frustrated, she like Fraleigh and several others had been called in without notice to this meeting.

Seraphina looked over at Percival, indicating that he had the go-ahead to proceed with disseminating the information. He sighed deeply and tried to be as gentle as possible.

“The Virginia GoM sent word this morning about a recent killing in the state tied to the Brotherhood. I am sorry to say that Benjamin Rosenfeld, his wife, and two children were burned alive in their homes just outside of Richmond late last night.” He announced and the room fell eerily silent.

“Ben is... He’s dead?” Merable asked, her face had gone pale. Benjamin Rosenfeld wasn’t an ordinary civilian wizard, he was responsible for student security at the Roanoke School of Magic, one of several smaller educational institutions around the country.

“You have my sympathies Merable.” He offered her. Merable Hicks oversaw the Office of Magical Relations and Education, she had personally recommended Benjamin Rosenfeld for the position at the Roanoke School five years ago.

“The Brotherhood didn’t just kill Rosenfeld and his family, they brutalized them and left us a message.” Ronald Sisk added, passing a file to Merable and she opened it hesitantly.

“Like Abraham, you have built the altar and laid the wood in order and bound your sons and daughters to the altar. But unlike Abraham, God will not spare your children. You have led your lambs to the slaughter.” Ronald recited from memory.

“You mean they plan to attack the schools?” Merable asked, mortified.

“We can only assume that is what they meant.” Seraphina admitted cautiously.

“Surely they can’t actually find any of them, they are unplottable and shielded!” Rensselaer shouted from across the table.

“We will be posting Aurors at every school.” Marcus Minus interjected.

“And what if these zealots get in? Your Aurors can’t protect them from their… their bombs and shooty things!” Fraleigh shouted back at him.

“Congress needs to do more to protect our children!” Another department head shouted and the room soon descended into chaos, with people shouting at one another demanding answers, dishing them out, and then furiously demanding better answers because the original ones didn’t suffice.

The meeting went on for hours and ended with Seraphina assuring everyone that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance, and Department of Aurors were working around the clock to keep the schools safe from the Brotherhood.

Everyone cleared out of the conference room feeling varying degrees of worry and fear, all set with the task of informing the rest of their departments of the new development. Percival stayed in his chair as did Marcus Minus, Ronald Sisk, and Seraphina.

“Mr. Minus, please make sure your Aurors are ready, Hicks can only do so much to prepare the schools. Term starts in two weeks.” Seraphina urged and he just nodded at her before taking his leave.

“There is no way those No-Majs can enter our schools.” Ronald insisted after Marcus was gone.

“You don’t know that.” Seraphina said sternly.

“The Brotherhood is too disorganized to pull something like this off.” Ronald insisted even further.

“Disorganized? They launched simultaneous attacks across the country in the Spring, they killed an Auror and injured a dozen others, myself included.” Percival reminded him.

“They’re far from disorganized. The attacks are well thought out, they only go after us when we’re few in numbers and always in the presence of other No-Majs. They know we won’t risk exposure, even if it’s to defend ourselves.” Percival added on.

“Then why did they stray from their usual methods in Virginia?” Ronald pointed out. 

The murder of the Rosenthal family was markedly different than previous ones. They killed Benjamin and his family in their home, out of sight of No-Maj’s. The Governor said they were alive when the fire started, so why didn’t they fight back? Why didn’t they escape?

When Percival got back to his office he sat back in his chair and looked at his watch, it was almost 4 PM and he still hadn’t received the official investigation report from Virginia. For the rest of the day, he went over the details he did have as he looked over the intelligence reports Ronald Sisk had provided. As usual, they yielded no helpful information. No suspects, not even a name, no idea of their base of operations or any kind of hideout.

“Sir, it’s time to go.” Edith said gently as she entered his office at 6:10. Percival had a habit of lingering for a few minutes after office hours just in case something important like the investigation report came in at the last moment.

“Go on. I’ll just be a few more minutes.” He said staring at the threat level gauge on his desk which read ‘HIGH ALERT’. Edith appeared to be ignoring him as she took his jacket off its hook and held it open for him with a stern face.

He let out a sigh and turned in his chair to face her, having given up but he was suddenly tempted to see what she’d do if he didn’t leave with her. He put on a straight face and turned back to his desk grabbing a miscellaneous file and pretending to be interested in it.

Edith threw the jacket at him, which was not expected and when he looked over at her she stood firm with an expression that reminded him of one of his schoolteachers.

“One.” She said sternly, he was incredibly confused.

“Two.” She said after a few seconds, crossing her arms and making it known that she was not backing down. Percival found himself equal parts aroused and curious, even slightly terrified at what would happen if she made it ‘three’.

They both stood strong in their positions staring each other down without a word. He wasn’t sure how it was possible but she had just become incredibly lethal, her freckled face firm, her eyes fiery and her five-foot-three frame seemed to tower over him. 

She still hadn’t said three and he determined that she refrained from saying it for his own sake. So when she threw her hands on her hips, Percival stood up quickly, put on his jacket, and headed for the door. 

He could hear Edith suppress a giggle as she followed him down the hallway and into the elevator. He watched her from the corner of his eyes as she stood next to him, looking rather proud of herself for making him fold first.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of arousal that crept across his skin so when they parted ways in the park, he quickly apparated home, stripped off his close, and threw himself into a cold shower.

It didn’t take him long to cool down as his thoughts drifted back to the report he had been waiting on all day. In fact, he hardly slept at all that night as numerous things plagued his mind, he just laid in his bed staring at the ceiling until the sun began to rise.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, Percival likes to throw fisticuffs.

If Percival was in a loveless marriage with his work, then stress was his awful and abusive mistress. Like any troubled marriage, one side attempted to ignore the prevailing problems while he did everything he could with what he was given. Like a parasitic mistress, stress robbed him of sleep and patience.

However, he was very good at hiding his stress because it blended so well with the stoic way he presented himself at work, albeit, much grumpier. The only person who did seem to notice was Edith, and like the loyal woman she was, she did everything to make Percival appear completely fine.

In the early days of September, she made sure to keep his paperwork light by rerouting anything that didn’t need his immediate attention to her own workload. Eventually, she started making up excuses to prevent people from coming into his office like saying he was ‘inundated with paperwork’ when really he was staring out his office windows in deep thought.

Edith also prevented him from staying after hours by ushering him out of his office at exactly 6:00, which he no longer protested because he loved the way she boldly snatched files out of his hands and presented him his jacket. 

On one of those nights, after he shrugged into his jacket, he decided he didn’t care about the risk of getting caught by prying eyes. When he turned to face her, he gently grabbed her chin and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Edith turned bright red and tried not to smile as she quickly pushed him towards the open office door, her way of telling him to go home and sleep.

By the time the school year started in the second week of September, Percival had reached peak grumpiness because none of the departments had any new information on the terrorist threat made in August. 

Thousands of students were boarding trains to their respective schools and all Percival could do to protect them was send the best-trained Aurors to stand guard.

The only clue they’d obtained came from the investigation into the Rosenthal family murders. The MediWizards who had examined the bodies found traces of water hemlock on Benjamin Rosenthal’s clothes. Yet it proved to be of little significance regarding the threatening note.

“Your incompetence astounds me!” Percival yelled at Ronald Sisk on a Friday as the two men got into a heated exchange in the hallway after leaving a meeting with President Picquery. 

“You got some nerve Graves! Do you think you could do better?” Ronald shouted.

“Of course I could. Hell, my secretary could do better than you!” Percival shot back at him and they were suddenly engaged in a physical struggle. People poked their heads out of their offices amused to see the two department heads trying to strangle each other as common No-Majs would.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” Picquery shouted as she came out of her office, but her usual commanding presence did nothing to stop their squabble.

In fact, everyone seemed content to let it continue until Edith came running down the hall and pried them apart. She stood between them, hands-on their chests to keep them at bay. 

When Ronald made an audacious remark about Percival’s beloved mother, he lunged toward Ronald only to be stopped when Edith forcefully pushed him hard enough to slam his back against the hallway wall.

“Are you out of your bloody minds!?” She shouted at both of them, the lethality in her tone causing the onlookers to retreat back to their work.

“Mr. Sisk, if you are done acting like a petulant child I will take Mr. Graves back to his office.” Edith said firmly. Ronald looked around angry and embarrassed only to find Picquery in front of her office with arms crossed, waiting for him to enter her office for a scolding.

Ronald straightened out his tie and walked towards Picquery with nothing to say. Percival stayed against the wall where Edith had pushed him, his face still red with anger, but also surprised by the amount of force she used on him.

Edith turned to face him with her hands on her hips and a pissed face. He didn’t need to be called a petulant child in order to know that he should begin walking back to his office and he did just that with hands shoved in his pockets as she followed behind him. 

“What is wrong with you?” She scolded him as he sat down at his desk and she shut the door behind them. He knew it was a rhetorical question, it was obvious the amount of stress he was under.

“You’re taking next week off.” She said plainly, the suggestion caught his attention.

“No, I’m not.” He replied.

“Yes, you are. Otherwise, you’ll suffer from cardiac arrest.” She hissed at him.

“I don’t know what that is.” He said exasperated, as he leaned back in his chair and massaged his brows with his thumb.

“A bloody heart attack Percival!” She shouted.

“I’m fine.” He tried to assure her.

“Well, that is too bad because I already put in the time-off request for you, and Mr. Hardwood’s already approved it.” She stated matter of factly.

“W-why, why would you do that?” He asked confused, sitting forward in his chair as she rounded his desk to stand in front of him.

“Because you haven’t been sleeping.” She reminded him, cupping his stubbled face in her hands. He closed his eyes and pressed his face deeper into one of her palms, soothed by its warmth.

“Please Percy, you don’t have to go anywhere, just stay home and sleep.” He caved the moment she called him ‘Percy’ and he took one of her hands, brought it closer to him, and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“Thank you.” He said sweetly, looking up at her with a tiered smile and she just smiled back at him before taking her leave.

He spent the rest of the day watching her silhouette in the office windows and thinking about how he could make up for his recent irritability. Perhaps he could take her away somewhere nice for the weekend, or take her back to Europe to see her friend Angelica for the holidays or buy her something expensive and pretty. Women like pretty things right?

Percival decided against those options deeming them too ‘intimate’ for where they currently stood. He spent the rest of the weekend tossing around ideas with no success before finally concluding that he needed help from a higher power and so reluctantly, on Monday morning he sent out a letter to his mother.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Percival had no doubt that his mother would laugh absurdly loud when she read his letter. He tried to keep it straightforward while purposely denying certain things, omitting details, and then quickly changing the subject. He simply wrote the following:

> _ Dear Mother, _
> 
> _ I hope all is well with you. I find myself in need of some guidance regarding a particular woman who has been very kind to me. As of late, I have been under a bit of stress and she has more than gracefully handled my more than annoying irritability and kept me level-headed.  _
> 
> _ My plan is to show her my gratitude, yet I have stalled on what to do. I assure you this is not in any way a romantic advance, so please do not suggest it. I just want to do something nice for her. _
> 
> _ It would also appear that I have accumulated a decent amount of time-off and was wondering if you would like to come to New York for the holidays. We could go out to the cape for Christmas and you can harass me for grandchildren as usual. _
> 
> _ With all my love, _
> 
> _ Percival _

Percival regretted sending the letter the moment the pigeon took off. His mother meant well, she always did, but she could also read him like a book and he knew she’d figure him out in no time and when she did, there would almost certainly be meddling.

His mother had a deep desire for grandchildren and he couldn't blame her. She had always wanted a large family, yet nature had not been kind to her, and with great difficulty, she bore just one child, him. It was the reason she doted on him, she had so much love to give and only one child to give it to.

When he began showing interest in women as a young man she was thrilled by the prospect of being a grandmother and yet the only woman whom he ever had a long-term relationship with was Seraphina Picquery, needless to say, that did not end well.

They were just teenagers though and like most teenagers, the best decisions were not made and drove a wedge between them that still very much affected their ability to work together. Neither he nor Seraphina ever talked about what went wrong, they just took it out on each other in passive-aggressive ways.

To put it simply, she broke his heart. They had been good friends throughout their time at Ilvermorny and by the time they were fifteen, they were completely infatuated with each other. 

They both had a bit of a reputation, he was very serious-minded and intimidating and Seraphina was forceful and driven. Yet Percival discovered he was a much gentler soul than she was and in their final year of school, he let her know he wanted to spend his life with her. 

Seraphina had other plans though, she had already decided she would one day lead MACUSA. He was persistent though and convinced her that he would never stop her from accomplishing her dreams.

So, she strung him along until he finally discovered she had never taken their relationship seriously and merely saw him as a good ally to get her the power she wanted.

It was obvious to Percival’s mother that Seraphina Picquery had utterly destroyed her son and ruined any and all future relationships he’d have, which wasn’t entirely wrong. Since then he had never once again felt that crazed infatuation he had with Seraphina, in fact, he didn’t feel much of anything for the women who did make their way into his bed.

Perhaps that was why he was so lost about what to do with Edith. She had stirred in him the long-dormant feeling of wanting to be utterly devoted to someone. Hell, she brought him a plethora of other emotions that he didn’t recall ever feeling and it constantly caught him off guard. 

Since meeting her he’d been jealous at New Year’s when he saw Mr. Ginsburgh talking to her. Protective when he had walked her home the first time. Hurt and worried when she was sick. Flirtatious and captivated nearly every moment of every day and far too often was he aroused by her.

But not once did he feel that deranged fixation he did in his youth. This was entirely different because while Edith did drive him crazy from time to time, she brought the most divine emotion, tranquility. When she was around, he just knew everything would be okay. 

Yet he had no idea how far she wanted what was growing between them to go. After all, for the last month, they had only stolen glances and delicate kisses. Edith had also once been engaged; Did her heart still belong to William? Was she willing to fully give it to Percival? 

Was she one of those women who swore to never marry when their fiance unexpectedly die? Would she even want to marry Percival? What about children? Did she want them? Did he even want them? Would they go to Hogwarts or Ilvermorny? Why was he suddenly thinking about marrying and having children with her!?

Percival burned through a whole cigarette as he stood at the window in his study, completely distracted by the whirlwind of thoughts his mind just ran through.

He didn’t do much else on Monday aside from nervously chain-smoking and wondering what pertinent information about his cases he was missing by staying home. The days dragged horrendously and he spent Tuesday in bed staring at the ceiling not knowing what else to do.  On Wednesday, he bought two more packs of cigarettes as a precaution since he seemed to be burning through them so quickly and then sat in his study for the rest of the day browsing the books on his shelves, most of which he had no memory of purchasing. 

Around 8:00 he went downstairs to the building lobby to chat with the night doorman, Albert, who was a very nice elderly part-vampire who never acclimated well to the magical community so instead took NoMaj jobs.

Albert had been manning the doors since before Percival had moved into the building almost ten years ago. Sometimes, when Percival couldn’t sleep, he’d sit in the lobby with Albert and listen to him rant on about all the changes occurring within the city and around the world.

By the time Percival headed back upstairs around midnight, he still wasn’t tired and that genuinely surprised him because the old doorman did nothing but discuss the intricacies of watchmaking. It was then that Percival determined he wouldn’t survive the whole week at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have absolutely nothing against Seraphina! She is a strong independent woman who knows what she wants and made some dumb decisions as a teenager.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

On Thursday morning Percival wandered into the kitchen because that was where the coffee was and he desperately needed some. 

He filled up the kettle and set it on the stove, it was an unnecessarily large stove with eight burners, four separate ovens, and several other compartments. To be honest, he had no idea how to use the damn thing because he only ever used the one burner which the kettle currently sat on.

He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed in front of him waiting for the water when he heard the familiar pop of someone apparating into the foyer. Percival thought carefully, trying to figure out who would possibly enter his apartment when he remembered it was Thursday. Boodey.

Boodey was a house-elf, the same one that helped care for him throughout his youth and into adulthood. When his father gifted him the apartment, he also gave him Boodey who was glad to continue serving the next generation of his family.

Percival had always felt Boodey deserved more than a life of cleaning up after him and so when father Graves passed away when Percival was in his twenties, he presented Boodey with a crisp white dress shirt and bow tie along with his freedom, which surprisingly the house-elf did not take well. 

Boodey was devastated and assumed he had been a terrible servant and was being punished. Percival quickly rectified the situation by letting Boodey continue serving him but as a free elf who would receive compensation for his work and was free to quit when he wanted. 

Free for more than a decade, Boodey still continued to faithfully work for Percival and Thursdays were one of the days he came to clean. Percival waited for Boodey to enter the kitchen and when he did the poor house elf shouted in surprise, not expecting to see Percival.

“Master Graves, I had not expected you to be home.” Boodey squeaked as he bowed his little head.

“Mandatory time-off.” Percival said as the kettle whistled and he went to grab the pot off the stove.

“Allow me sir.” Boodey insisted and Percival let him take over making the coffee. Percival went into the cabinets looking for cups with no success in the first two before Boodey snapped his fingers to open a cupboard across the kitchen and summon two cups and saucers.

If anything explained better how little Percival used his kitchen it was this; he didn’t even know where the cups were stored.

“Maybe I should buy a smaller place.” Percival said to the elf as he searched for the sugar which once again, Boodey ended up summoning.

“That would seem reasonable, but then Boodey would have no work sir.” The elf said as he served Percival his coffee and then served himself.

“You could work anywhere you want.” Percival reminded him.

“Boodey could but then Boodey would not get to see his friend.” He said and Percival gave the house-elf a small smile before they both held their coffee cups up to each other in a silent toast. 

Percival supposed Boodey, and possibly even old Albert, were the closest things to a friend he had and it didn’t really bother him. Albert had always been a good conversationalist, but Boodey had been there his entire life, and where most wizards would never share the details of their personal lives with a common house-elf, Percival did.

Percival spent the rest of the day following his loyal companion around the house as he cleaned and discussed a wide range of things from politics, to the secret lives of goblins and most importantly, what he should do to show Edith his appreciation.

He sat in a chair in one of the spare bedrooms as Boodey put fresh blankets on the bed and bombarded the elf with the details he neglected to tell his mother in the letter he sent on Monday.

Boodey seemed to ponder it for a moment.

“Take her to the park.” He finally said.

“The park?” Percival asked, confused.

“Yes sir. Boodey sees the No-Majs go all the time. Young, old, families, friends… men who want to take a special lady somewhere nice without making her feel uncomfortable.” The elf explained.

Percival thought about it for a moment, it truly wasn’t a terrible idea. It was a public space, unlikely to have anyone from MACUSA there and it was something nice to do for a day.

“The park.” Percival repeated to himself, liking the idea the more it sat in his mind.

“Boodey, you are brilliant.” Percival said.

“It has been known to happen sir.” Boodey said as he fluffed the pillows.

Percival went into his study and wrote a note for Edith. He kept it short: 

> _ Join me for a walk on Saturday, 10AM? - P _

He had the pigeon deliver it to her apartment, not wanting anyone at the office to see it and the moment the creature left, the familiar sight of his mother’s owl caught his eye.

“Oh goodness.” He said bracing himself as the owl flew in through the window and left the letter on his desk to help itself to the bowl of treats he left out for the birds.

Percival opened the envelope and read his mother's letter. As expected, she ignored his pleas to not blow everything out of proportion. She wanted to know everything: who the woman was, how he had met her, how long they’d been seeing each other, and if she could meet her when she came to New York in December.

His mother also recommended he take his mystery woman to lunch, which was completely unhelpful since he took Edith to lunch nearly every day and it no longer carried the sentiment of appreciation he wanted to show her.

Percival set the letter down and sighed, he just opened the floodgates and now his mother was sure to send him multiple letters a week in an attempt to get him to talk about Edith.

Boodey spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and doing Percival’s laundry while Percival sat out on the terrace to keep out his way. He watched the No-Majs below stroll about, some heading to the gardens, others to the museum all the while he waited for Edith’s reply, which he knew wouldn’t come until she got home from the office.

Boodey made Percival dinner before leaving for the day and as expected, not long after 6:00 a pigeon arrived with a note from Edith that merely said:

> _ That would be lovely. - E _

Percival smiled to himself and sent her back another note saying he would meet her outside her apartment. He ate dinner, smoked a cigarette, and found that Boodey had set out something for him to wear for his outing on Saturday. All Percival had to do now was survive Friday. 


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

It poured all day Friday, much to Percival’s annoyance. He crossed his fingers and hoped that the rain would stop by the morning otherwise he’d have to cancel with Edith and he was really looking forward to seeing her after a week trapped in his apartment.

The rain did eventually lighten throughout the day and the storm glass on his bedside table had become more clear and starry as the night went on. He watched it closely as he sat in bed with the book he had been reading abandoned in his lap.

It had been a ludicrously long week, or at least it felt that way and so he decided he was ready for Saturday. He closed the book, set it aside, turned off the light, and laid like a stiff board in the bed. 

Sleep had always been a difficult thing for him to achieve, he often only ever slept four or five hours and woke up several times each night. It’s partly why stress affected him so badly and he was grateful Edith had noticed and had enough foresight to realize it meant he slept even less.

He hoped she would have a nice time tomorrow; no one deserved to relax more than her. After all, she did have to put up with him and that was a lot to ask of anyone, he wasn’t always an easy man to deal with. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to finally overtake him.

In the morning, he showered, shaved, and dressed. Percival felt a little silly in the clothes Boodey had left out for him, but mostly because he spent every day in a suit. He would have also said he spent the other parts of his day in pajamas but honestly, he mostly walked around the house in just his boxer shorts or nude under his robe.

It was a very relaxed outfit, a dress shirt, a sweater, slacks, and no tie to strangle him but it seemed more appropriate for a day at the park. He apparated to her neighborhood, strolled up to her building, and waited for her. 

When the door to the building opened, Edith appeared with a toddler hoisted on one of her hips while her other hand pulled a baby buggy out the door as an older pregnant woman pushed the buggy from the other end.

Percival couldn’t help but smile at Edith’s never-ending kindness to strangers and he quickly ascended the steps to help them. Edith gave him a warm hello as he picked up the buggy and brought it down the front steps for them. He set it down on the sidewalk and watched Edith, with the little boy still on her hip, guide the very pregnant woman down the stairs.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings as he thought about what kind of mother Edith would be and quickly pushed it out of his mind as the NoMaj woman took the child from Edith and set the boy down in the buggy with many kind and appreciative words for the witch.

“Good morning.” Percival said to Edith when she finally joined him on the sidewalk. 

She wore a modest grey dress with  ivory embroidered stitching throughout it. Her hair was done in the same sweet sophisticated updo she had begun wearing since he mentioned liking it at lunch one day but this wasn’t what caught his attention. 

The sleeves of her dress were see-through and came down to her elbows, the neckline revealed her collarbones and the hem of the dress fell just below her calves. He had to remind himself not to get distracted by the bits of her skin that were exposed.

It was not as sinfully revealing as the nightgown that had forever been ingrained in his mind but Edith always dressed very conservatively. She always looked beautiful of course, but today, well… he couldn’t find a word to describe how she looked today but it’d be somewhere between delicate and delicious. Did he just call her delicious?

“Did you enjoy your week off?” She asked curiously, breaking the awkward silence he had created in his distraction. 

“I did.” He said plainly before he held out his arm for her and she took it gladly. 

“Don’t ever make me do it again.” He added with a grumble and she laughed lightly, seemingly not surprised that he did not fully enjoy being away from work.

“Did anything important come in for me?” He asked and she gave him a stern glance as he led their walk.

“Work doesn’t start until Monday, _Mister Graves_.” She said, throwing an emphasis on his name. She knew it bugged him when she addressed him so formally.

“Well if I can’t ask about work, you can’t address me like we are at work.” He shot back with a smile and she gave him a look of concession as they walked down an alley and he apparated them away.

“Where are you taking me?” Edith asked as he led her down city streets she did not recognize.

“For a walk.” He reminded her and she gave him a skeptical look but allowed him to continue leading the way. 

They entered the park at East 61st Street and strolled along the road together blending seamlessly with the NoMajs. Despite the rain the previous night the day was relatively warm and sunny, especially for September in the city. 

“So have you started thinking about how you’ll use the rest of your time off?” Edith asked him as they walked along the tree-lined path.

“My mother is coming from Ireland in December, I’ll spend the time with her.” Percival said.

“I didn’t know you were Irish.” She said with surprise and he chuckled.

“My mother is Irish, I am only half.” He explained.

“Is your father American then?” She asked.

“He was. I believe I am the 10th or 11th generation born here.” He confirmed, trying to recall exactly how long the Graves family had been in the Americas.

“No wonder you’re such a patriot.” Edith laughed.

“I’m sure you must be happy you’ll be seeing your mother.” She added.

“I’m always happy to see her, though she does make me a bit crazy.” He admitted if only Edith knew of the pandora’s box he’d opened with his mother.

“What about you? You still have a whole week, what do you plan on doing with it?” He asked looking over at her to see her nose had scrunched in annoyance.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just take a day off here and there.” She said, clearly having no idea what to do with the time.

“Well, that’s no fun. You should go away or something. What about your birthday? People like to go away for their birthday.” He tried to suggest.

“When is your birthday?” He asked suddenly, realizing he had no idea when it was.

“Doesn’t matter.” She said, shaking her head.

“Of course it matters. Come on, I’ll make sure you get the day off. When is it?” He said, nudging her.

“It was Monday.” She almost whispered and he quickly stopped walking causing her to jerk as she still held his arm.

“This past Monday?” He asked for more clarification. She just stared at him confused.

“Yes, this past Monday.” She confirmed, with a raised eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You could have had the day off. I would have gotten you a thing.” He tried to explain and she just laughed at him amused.

“It isn’t a big deal and I don’t need  _ things _ .” She tried to assure him and pulled him along to continue their walk.

“But it was your birthday. Everyone celebrates their birthday.” He reminded her and she just laughed at him.

“Do you celebrate your birthday?” She asked.

“In my own way.” He stated.

“Well, I celebrate by not celebrating. Besides, it’s not even a milestone one, it is just twenty-four.” She replied.

“Oh sweet Merlin, you are so young.” Percival groaned at the decade between them and she just laughed.

It was easy for Percival to forget the twelve-year age difference between them, Edith just presented herself in a way that contradicted her biology.

“So my age is suddenly an issue.” She teased.

“You’re lucky I am a decent man.” He told her with a serious face.

“Oh, am I not to be trusted with my own choices?” She asked sternly, the mood shifting very suddenly and he stopped again with an exasperated sigh and faced her, taking both of her hands in his.

“I just mean that, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re being taken advantage of.” He explained. 

Percival had always tried to steer clear of younger women, they were unknowingly a danger to themselves. He had seen the way other men chased after them; preying on their naivety, playing with their gentle hearts, and entrapping them with the promise of financial security because ‘who else will love them when their youth fades’ as he once overheard.

Edith looked at him, her face as serious as his until her eyebrows furrowed trying to contain her amusement.

“You are just a big ol’ teddy bear, aren’t you.” She said unable to contain the smile growing across her face.

“Mister Percival Graves, defender of law and order, guardian of my womanly virtues.” She teased and he rolled his eyes at her trying not to laugh as he let go of her hands and continued walking without her.

“However shall you protect me from your bedroom eyes?” She continued as she followed behind him.

“I must take the utmost precautions as you seduce me with lunch.” She added, still clearly amused and he tried to not let his embarrassment show.

“Shall I cover my ears as you flirt unabashedly with me?” She asked as she caught up with him and stood in his way.

“You done?” He asked, trying very hard not to kiss her as she stood far too close to him.

“Percy,” She began, placing both hands on his chest and looking up at him with her sweet seductive eyes.

“If you are under the impression that I am not one hundred percent in control of whatever this is...” She teased, leaning up to place the most tantalizing pecking kiss on his lips.

“You are a menace.” He growled at her, his heart pounding as she pulled away and hooked her arm with his and started them again on their walk.

Percival couldn’t recall having a more pleasant day, they strolled through the park and he watched her glow amongst the open green space. She told him it reminded her of the grounds at Hogwarts minus the imposing castle and forest full of magical creatures.

They bickered at the boathouse as he tried convincing her to get in one of the boats for a relaxing excursion onto the lake. Edith resisted, insisting that she didn’t do well on boats, or cars, or trains, or anything that moved for that matter. 

Much to his surprise he won, and the entire time he rowed them along, she kept her eyes shut, both hands gripped her seat as she claimed repeatedly that she would throw up on him.

She didn’t but he did manage to scare her by purposely rocking the boat hard enough that she screamed in fear it would tip over. She hit him rather hard in the chest for that and he apologized profusely, saying that he simply couldn’t help himself.

He bought them sandwiches for lunch and discreetly conjured a blanket for them to sit on underneath a shady tree overlooking the Great Lawn. She asked him more about how he grew up and he thought it only fair to answer honestly as he had been inside her mind and knew a lot more about her than she did of him.

He admitted his relationship with his father was far from a perfect one; there had been a lot of pressure on Percival to follow in the footsteps of his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and every male ancestor of his going back to Gondulphus Graves who was one of the original Aurors of MACUSA.

He also admitted that his father was a stoic man, who hardly showed any affection towards him or his mother; though his mother undoubtedly loved her husband regardless. His father did try to show some emotion for him, but it usually was in the form of back-handed compliments or gifts that Percival didn’t want but his mother made him accept.

After talking for a while he found Edith just staring at him with a soft face and she simply thanked him for opening up to him. He felt odd, listened to, and cared for. He wasn’t very good at talking openly about the bitterness he felt for his father; but again, Edith had helped uncap many feelings that had long been kept sealed up.

He took her home and burned through a few more cigarettes as he sat on the terrace of his apartment thinking about the way she made him feel. It was just too easy to fall in love with her and wondered if like his father, he’d be unable to say it when it mattered most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday, September 10th, 1924 is Edith’s twenty-fourth birthday. On this day, the Irish Free State was admitted to the League of Nations and a total solar eclipse occurred.


	30. Chapter Thirty

“The building has been secured but we still have twelve students who are unaccounted for.” Marcus Minus announced as he passed around several copies of a report issued by the Governor of Magic for Virginia.

“How the hell did they get in there?!” Merable Hicks shouted slamming her hand down on the conference table.

“We have Aurors combing over every inch of the school to find that out.” Percival assured her.

“That’s not good enough. These parents trust us to take care of their children. You don’t have to go explain to them that their sons and daughters may possibly be dead.” Merable seethed with tears in her eyes.

Percival didn’t envy her job, they had halted all messages coming in and out of the Roanoke School to avoid a mass panic. Eventually, though, Merable Hicks would have to stand in front of the press and explain to the wizarding community that the Brotherhood had managed to enter one of their schools, set off a series of explosives and taken twelve students.

“We are watching the Trace very closely, if we are lucky one of the children may attempt a spell and we can pick up their location.” Ronald Sisk informed her.

“Well, that is a shit idea if I ever heard one.” Rensselaer Harwood said blatantly.

“You have no idea what those madmen will do to those kids if they use magic. You could be holding out hope for a death sentence.” Fraleigh Rakow said reminded him.

“We are clearly missing something. There need to be more Aurors on site investigating. ” Percival chimed in.

“We all have collected every bit of information possible.” Sisk said sternly.

“Well then extend what is possible and find something we can actually work with.” Percival shot back.

“We have used all our available resources already.” Ronald reminded him.

“Yes, but are we using them effectively?” Percival asked.

“What do you mean?” Seraphina asked, breaking her long silence.

“Clearly the departments are overwhelmed and too many people are dipping their hands in the pot. We need to streamline everything, create a dedicated task force to look into the Brotherhood and nothing but the Brotherhood.” He suggested.

“We could designate personnel from each department to focus solely on their activity. I have a handful of new recruits investigating bomb threats and senior Aurors on street menial street patrols because we just hand them whatever assignment is available as we have always done.” Marcus admitted.

Seraphina thought about it for a moment before speaking again.

“Let’s roll with this task force. What else would be needed?” She asked.

“A designated information center. The girls downstairs in reception are fantastic but one minute their answering questions about wand permits and the next people are demanding answers on the investigation.” Rennasler added.

“Fraleigh, can you set up a team to help with that? I do not want a mass panic, you are to clearly separate the Brotherhood from the rest of the No-Majs. The last thing we need right now is an all-out war.” Seraphina said sternly.

After more discussion and suggestions it was agreed that a new department would be created to handle the Brotherhood's threat to the International Statute of Secrecy.

Major Investigations would now lead the charge against the largest threats to MACUSA with only the most senior Aurors and necessary personnel having access to the information. It would also stretch across the country with small teams in each state reporting to the Department Head… which unfortunately fell to Percival. 

He didn’t oppose the idea because the only other person suited to the job was Ronald Sisk, but he hated Sisk. As it turned out, Seraphina had become leary of Sisk over the course of the last few months. After the meeting, when everyone had cleared out she instructed Percival to start keeping tabs on the head of the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation.

It was a strict, top-secret request that should be known to no one but the two of them and a handful of her most trusted Aurors.

“And Percival,” Seraphina called out to him as he was about to leave the room.

“I do mean absolutely no one.” She emphasized. He didn’t need to ask for further clarification, Seraphina clearly meant that Edith was not to know about their surveillance of Ronald Sisk.

“You do know she handles all my paperwork.” Percival reminded her.

“If she so much as glances too long at the file cover, I will wipe her mind so completely clean she won’t remember ever stepping foot in this country.” Seraphina said sharply, coldly.

The threat did not sit well with Percival and he left the room, slamming the door behind him. If there was one thing Percival had learned about Seraphina over the last two and a half decades it was that she did not make threats lightly. Especially threats about obliviating people.

He made his way back to his office as calmly as he could. As he approached Edith’s desk he grabbed her by an arm and ushered her into his office before locking the door and firmly instructing her to not, under any circumstance, open any files labeled with a level five classification.

“Why?” She asked him, her face had gone white.

“Just don’t, please.” He begged her, taking her face in both his hands.

“Should I be worried about something?” Edith asked slowly.

“Please just do as I ask.” He said and she nodded quickly before he placed a kiss on her forehead. He was grateful she didn’t ask any more questions and he found it difficult to fall asleep that night.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

Autumn turned out to be the most difficult time of the year on the basis of work. As the head of Major Investigations, it was now Percival’s job to comb through every crime scene connected to the Brotherhood in person, so he was hardly in the office, or in New York for that matter.

As a precaution, Picquery barred all non-essential personnel from fieldwork which meant that Edith did not go with him to Virginia and he really wished she had. Edith was much better at note-taking, that was if he even took notes. Percival just cataloged everything in his mind and dealt with paperwork afterward, which was why there was always so much of it piled on both of their desks.

He was also genuinely worried he’d come back to find her desk empty and all traces of her gone from his life. Luckily, that wasn’t the case and every day he received mail and paperwork that needed his immediate attention with her distinctive handwriting on the accompanying note.

Her letters looped and curved elegantly with no hesitation and he loved the way she wrote his name; her uppercase ‘g’ always looked like a big lowercase ‘a’. 

When he got back to his hotel on the tenth of October, he found the bundle of mail sitting on the bed. He loosened his tie and removed her note from the top of the stack to read it.

> _Mister Graves,_
> 
> _Marcus Minus would like your approval to send a few Aurors to look into a muggle group calling themselves the Second Salemer’s. They are based here in the city and he wants to check for a possible connection to the Brotherhood. What would you like me to do?_
> 
> _Also, Happy Birthday._
> 
> _\- Edith_

The last sentence made him smile. How did she know it was his birthday? He didn’t recall telling her the date and tried to figure out how she would have known. Underneath her note, amongst the stack of letters and files was a small box wrapped in parchment with his mother’s name on it.

His mother never sent mail to him at the office, except on his birthday. Edith was exceptionally skilled at drawing correct conclusions from seemingly nothing, perhaps the deductive mind of a trained nurse.

Percival opened the package from his mother to see that she had sent him yet another pair of cufflinks and collar pins. He seemed to have one for every occasion now, but his favorite was the set she had bought him when he became the Director of Magical Law Enforcement; the ones with the scorpions.

He set the box aside and decided he’d wear the new ones while she was visiting for the holidays. He unfolded the letter included in the box, bracing for the choice words his mother would have for him for ignoring her last few letters.

> _My Sweet Boy,_
> 
> _Today is not just the anniversary of the day you were born, but also the commemoration of the happiest day of my life. You are my greatest achievement and joy in this world so it pains me that you are too much of a brat to answer my letters. You realize that if you gave me even the slightest information about this mystery woman I would be satisfied and stop pestering you._
> 
> _I just want to know that you are happy and not withering away in that apartment alone while stressing about work, which I suspect is the case. I love you so dearly, please write back to me soon or so help me, I will march down there and embarrass you on purpose._
> 
> _With all my love,_
> 
> _Mother_

Percival sighed heavily, sat on the edge of the bed, and kicked off his shoes before laying back on the mattress. He concluded he was too old to try hiding from his mother any longer; perhaps he was too old to even be attempting a relationship with Edith.

How was he even expected to romance her when he was likely going to be gone for weeks at a time and with the possibility of her mind being wiped clean for reading the wrong thing. It was then he decided that everything was awful.

And awful it was indeed. As October ended and November began, one of the missing Roanoke students had triggered the Trace by using magic.

It was unexpected but Percival’s team acted quickly, apparating to the location deep within the Monongahela National Forest and catching a handful of Brotherhood members who were found on site. 

Percival was relieved to see the twelve students had managed to stay mostly unharmed though they had been covered with water hemlock which paralyzed them in an attempt to keep them from using magic. His mind, however, couldn’t get past the thought of what emotional challenges they would face in the years to come. 

The eldest of the twelve missing students was a fifteen-year-old boy and also the one who triggered the Trace. When Percival questioned him, the boy admitted the magic was accidental and not a heroic escape attempt. The boy merely had an itch that needed to be scratched and out of sheer thought magicked a tree branch to scratch his back while he lay disabled on the ground.

Accidental or not, the tree branch turned back scratcher secured the students’ safe return to their families and brought five members of the Brotherhood into custody and Percival returned to New York with them in tow just before Thanksgiving.

One of the reasons Percival had always been so effective as an Auror was his interrogation techniques. He wasn’t a particularly violent man, but he had a unique ability to instill fear in people that went along handily with his use of force. It wasn’t really something he thought much about until Seraphina requested a detailed record of all his interrogations; a task the President saw best suited to a particular secretary.

“I would rather not subject Miss Matasen to an interrogation room.” Percival said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Was it not you who reminded me that she handles all of your paperwork?” Seraphina questioned bracing for a fight.

“I did. However, that doesn’t mean I think she should be present during an interrogation.” He shot back.

“Is there any particular reason you don’t think she is suited to the task? She's a licensed MediWizard, she could be useful in an interrogation room.” She pointed out.

“Miss Matasen is more than capable of doing her job but she is not an Auror. You didn’t allow her out in the field, why would you allow her in the interrogation room? There is also a reason she stopped practicing medicine.” Percival did not like the idea of making Edith watch him break people down to the point of submission; it was cruel and she had seen enough of it during the war.

“What happened to ‘too many hands in the pot’? Do you think it's necessary to add another person to the investigation to spare your assistant’s feelings?” She argued.

“Secretary.” He corrected her.

“Oh, whatever.” Seraphina hissed.

“If Miss Matasen can’t meet the new demands of her job then get rid of her and find someone who can. We’re trying to prevent a war here.” Seraphina reminded him before kicking him out of her office.

Percival had hardly spoken to Edith in private since September and this was definitely a conversation he was dreading. He waited until the end of the day, knowing that she’d eventually come into his office to usher him home. Without fail she did and he asked her to take a seat.

“You’re just questioning them right?” Edith asked, hopeful.

“Interrogation is a bit more hands-on than a standard questioning.” He told her gently and her face hardened and she shook her head.

“I’m not going to sit and watch you torture people.” She stated firmly.

“Picquery has requested it.” He informed her.

“It’s not mandatory, right? I can decline.” She asked next, becoming upset.

“If you decline, she will try to remove you from your position.” Percival told her cautiously.

“Bloody hell, she can’t be serious!?” Edith partially shouted.

“She’s already threatened you once. She is absolutely serious.” He said, recalling Seraphina’s threat to wipe Edith’s mind clean if she found out about their investigation into Ronald Sisk.

“WHAT!?” She shouted even louder and he leaned forward with his fingers to lips as a way of telling her to quiet down.

“Is that why you told me not to look at those files?” She whispered harshly standing suddenly from the chair.

“Edith relax, I’m not going to let her fire you, she doesn’t have the authority to do that. She may be the President but I am the head of both of the departments you work for.” He assured her and she just crossed her arms and threw herself back down into the chair.

“What am I supposed to do then?” She said harshly.

“Tomorrow you will take a calming draft first thing in the morning and come into the office as you always do. When it is time you will come with me to the interrogation room and do as you are told. I’ve had a good look at the No-Majs already and I am starting with a guy who will undoubtedly be the easiest to talk to.” He told her, he was going to try and make it as easy for her as possible.

“I’ve already spoken to Marcus; he is going to lodge a formal protest saying that you don’t have the clearance of an Auror and therefore should not be in the interrogation room. Congress will no doubt agree and request that you resume your regular role as my secretary.” He finished, watching her uneasy face from behind his desk.

“ I-i don’t think I can handle it.” Edith, the fear in her eyes hurting him.

“Do you think she knows? Do you think she’s trying to punish us?” Edith asked, referring to their personal affair. The thought had also crossed his mind but he thought Seraphina was probably too busy to care or even notice any forming relationships within the building, especially his.

“She doesn’t know.” He said.

“Are you sure? Because she seems to really hate you.” Edith reminded him.

“She is cruel but I do not think destroying my personal relationships is at the top of her list of atrocities to commit.” He assured her.

“You are just really good at paperwork.” He tried to joke.

“If you say so. However…” She started, getting out of the chair and putting on her coat.

“Since I am now personally being threatened by the President, I expect you to be talking to Mr. Harwood about my much-deserved raise sometime soon.” She said with the most serious face he’d ever seen.

“And if I can’t get you a raise?” He questioned.

“Then you better find some way to compensate me for the emotional turmoil of working for you.” She said with a furious look as she opened his office door and left.

“I can buy you a drink. Want to go out for a drink?” He called out to her as he grabbed his coat and followed her to the elevator.

Somehow, he managed to get Edith to agree to a drink with him despite being obviously upset over Picquery’s threats. He took her to a No-Maj speakeasy and handed her a wine list at the table but she set it aside and ignored it. When the waiter arrived, much to his surprise, she requested a single malt Scotch, neat and Percival doubled the order.

“I have a confession to make.” Percival said as he sipped on his drink.

“Really?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward against the small table they shared, both hands clasped around her glass, prepared to hear more.

“I found myself missing you while I was away.” He said with a grin and she turned the most brilliant shade of pink as she sat back, trying not to let him distract her from her anger.

They stayed for the length of their drinks, which they both dragged out, sipping slowly from their glasses while he flirted playfully with her until she loosened up. He got her to laugh a few times and even got her flustered before he finally took her home.

On the dark sidewalk outside her apartment, she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled his face closer to hers brushing her nose against his but never connecting their lips. He groaned and closed his eyes as she taunted him, pulling away ever so slightly every time he tried to press his lips to hers, which made her smile.

“You are a tease.” He whispered, licking his lips as she dominated the moment.

“I am methodical.” She corrected him, her lips grazing his in the most sinful way possible as she slowly said each word. Percival felt a familiar ache forming in his belly, a lustful ache and he let out a low grumble which finally caused her to relent.

She leaned into his chest and lightly lapped his lower lip with her tongue before kissing him deeply. Percival let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, melting into the kiss before he let out a whine when she decided she was done and pulling away from him.

“You enjoy torturing me don’t you?” He asked and she dashed away from him after he attempted to keep her close.

“Very much so.” She admitted with a grin from the top of the building's front steps. He watched her disappear into the building with a spring in her step, clearly satisfied with how she managed to unravel him so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 10th, 1924 is Percival’s 36th birthday. On this day, the first World Series game ever held at Yankee Stadium was played between the New York Yankees and the Crosstown Giants. This makes Percival’s date of birth October 10th, 1888 meaning he was twelve, turning thirteen when Edith was born in September of 1900. 
> 
> I was also trying really hard to find a natural-poison that would paralyze but not kill and was also native to North America. I ended up picking Water Hemlock, which is probably one of the deadliest plants in North America. Ingesting it can be fatal and after thinking about it for a while it made no sense that the Brotherhood would be able to force wizards into consuming the plant. However, I came across a scholarly article from 1911 that sites an incident of a family who rubbed water hemlock on their skin thinking it would relieve their itching and still suffered the same symptoms as if they had ingested it; in fact, the two youngest children died as a result of skin contact with the plant. This gave me the idea that the Brotherhood could disable their targets by touching them with contaminated gloves. I also would like to believe that maybe the magical community is less affected by poisons, which would result in small amounts of water hemlock paralyzing them instead of killing them as it would us muggles.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

“Did you take the draft as I told you to?” Percival asked Edith as he leaned against the front of his desk as they stood together in his office the next morning.

“Yes, I still feel like I might fall off the planet though.” She admitted and he could see the anxiety in her eyes.

“Hey,” He said, grabbing her hand.

“The person you’re going to see in there isn’t me, you understand that right?” He asked, giving her hand a gentle assuring squeeze and she nodded silently.

“Let’s go.” He said, ushering her out of the room. The elevator ride was silent, in fact, the silence the whole way to the interrogation room was almost unbearable.

Percival held open the door for her and she hesitantly stepped inside. They were greeted by the sight of a man sitting at a metal table, his hands chained to it, his ankles to the chair and a black hood pulled over his head.

Percival pointed Edith over to a corner wall and she went there as directed, standing firmly against the wall with a notepad and pen ready to write. He glanced up to the second level of the room where behind a pane of glass Seraphina stood with Marcus, Ronald and several members of Congress. He watched as one of the Congresswomen seemed to question something and Percival could only hope it was the appropriateness of having Edith in the room.

Percival removed the man’s hood and took a seat at the table across from him. The No-Majs facial hair growing in the patchy uneven way common amongst men barely out of their youth, if Percival had to guess, he was about eighteen or nineteen years old.

The boy stared at him with blue tear-filled eyes and utter fear waiting for something to happen.

“What is your name?” Percival asked.

“A-Andrew W-ward.” The NoMaj stuttered.

“Do you know who I am Andrew?” He asked next.

“Y-you are a-a w-warlock.” The boy answered.

“Yes. I am.” Percival confirmed.

“Any guess as to why you are here?” Percival always started this way, simple, easy questions.

“I d-didn’t take any of the k-kids,” Andrew said firmly. Percival reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand placing it on the table in front of him.

“Andrew, here is how this is going to work. I am going to ask you a lot more questions and should at any point you lie to me, I am going to break one of your fingers.” Percival said in almost a whisper.

“How did you find the school?” He asked more harshly. Andrew didn’t answer, in fact, he took a deep breath and straightened himself up trying to not show any more weakness. Percival sighed and pointed his wand at the boy’s left hand, there was a terrible crackling as his pinky snapped back and the boy screamed out in utter horror.

“Andrew, I should mention I consider silence a lie.” Percival mentioned casually as he leaned back into his chair.

“Now, how did you find the school?” He asked again. Andrew mostly cooperated, answering some questions to the best of his knowledge but still trying to maintain his loyalty.

By the time Percival had broken all the fingers on Andrew’s left hand, the boy lay his face between his forearms sobbing and begging to go home. Percival asked him another question and Andrew shouted at him to ‘go to hell’. The room filled with the awful pop and deafening splintering of the right thumb and the boy let out the most bloodcurdling scream imaginable.

Percival heard Edith’s notepad hit the floor behind him and the unmistakable sound of her hastily exiting the room. He looked up to the second floor where he saw the same Congresswoman along with one of her peers shouting at Seraphina before they also quickly left. 

Seraphina looked down at Percival with an expression he hadn’t seen on her face before. Was that a look of honest regret? She looked over at Marcus and said something before throwing open the door and leaving. Marcus tapped on the glass with his wand signalling to Percival that the interrogation was over.

Percival stood and left immediately pulling the first person in the hall aside and asking where Edith had gone. He arrived outside the restroom she had fled to at the exact same time as Seraphina.

“I told you that was a terrible idea.” Percival barked at her.

“You didn’t tell me she had operational exhaustion. I had to find out from Rensselaer who has her paperwork from St Mungo’s.” Seraphina hissed defensively. 

“That’s in her file? Whatever, I would have thought that was obvious when I told you she was a nurse in the NoMaj war effort.” He shot back pushing past her and knocking on the restroom door when there was no answer he let himself. 

Seraphina followed him in to see the Congresswoman holding open one of the stall doors where Edith was tucked away inside vomiting. Percival rushed over and excused the Congresswomen, taking her place as she went to give some choice words to the President.

“Edith,” Percival said, stepping closer to her and placing a gentle hand on her back as she continued to throw up the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She took a sharp breath and pushed herself away from the bowl with shaking arms. He knew the interrogation would be difficult for her, but he hadn’t expected such a physical reaction.

“I tried.” She gasped.

“I know and you did very well.” He assured her, leaning his back against one of the walls and crouching down beside her.

“No, I didn’t.” She choked out shaking her head as tears ran down her face.

“You did, I promise. You did a great job. No one is mad at you.” He said stroking the side of her face with the back of his hand. 

“Is… there anything I can do?” Seraphina asked, as she pulled the stall door back from it’s ajar position only to meet Percival’s furious face. While he was genuinely surprised by her offer he was far too mad to care. 

“Everything tastes like tar.” Edith said as she leaned back into the toilet and vomited some more. The comment was odd and Seraphina looked like she was ready to sympathetically upchuck.

“I can help.” Seraphina said.

“I got it.” He told her firmly, Seraphina went to insist but he glared at her as he rubbed Edith back when she hunched back over the toilet to vomit some more.

“Get out.” He fumed through gritted teeth and for the first time ever, Seraphina conceded and left.

Percival and Edith stayed there for a while until finally, she had nothing left in her. He helped her to the sinks where she rinsed out her mouth and threw cold water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror, she was pale and shaky.

“The screaming, I just couldn’t take it.” She said, trying not to fall back into tears.

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry.” He said combing stray strands of her hair back into place with his fingers, her eyes closed softly and she gave a long exhausted sigh.

“Come on, I’m going to take you home.” He told her.

“No!” She said quickly slapping his hand away from hers.

“No, I don’t want to be alone. Let me just go back to my desk.” She pleaded.

“Edith, you just spent half an hour with your head in a toilet. You need to go home and rest.” He reminded her but she just stared at him with wide panicked eyes and shook her head at him.

They argued about it for several minutes before he finally caved.

“Okay, I’ll take you home later but you’re going to go lay down in my office and you’re not going to do anything else.” He told her firmly, and she nodded in agreement.

Edith crashed hard on the sofa in his office, curling into a ball when he threw his coat over her as a blanket. He sat at his desk and started the paperwork he should have done while he was in Virginia. Around three o’clock, there was a gentle knock on his office door and without looking up from the document in front of him, he told the person to enter.

Percival grumbled and stood quickly when he saw it was Seraphina and grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back out of his office, closing the door behind them.

“Ow, ow. Damn it, Percival, I am just trying to check in on her.” Seraphina complained, wrestling herself out of his grasp.

“Wow, guilt, regret, submission and care all in the same day. How does it feel to be a human being for once?” He scolded her.

“I am sorry, I didn’t know she was going to handle it so poorly.” Seraphina insisted.

“And an apology? Is it Christmas already?” He said still pissed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door. Seraphina shook her head at him with frustration.

“Stop being a child for a moment and listen to me.” She said and he waited. Seraphina sighed trying to figure out what it was she was trying to say.

“I-,” She stopped when someone came walking down the hall. Seraphina jerked her head over to the empty conference room across from his office and he followed her inside annoyed.

“Out with it already.” He said as he closed the door behind him.

“I fucked up.” Seraphina said plainly and the directness of if made Percival chuckle. 

“Don’t laugh, I’m trying.” Seraphina seethed, he threw up his hands in surrender and let her continue.

“Sometimes I do things just to spite you. I admit it, I get a kick out of it but I really thought she was more than capable of sitting in that room and I am very, very sorry.” She said and Percival knew her too well to think that she was anything but sincere.

“Yeah, well you still broke my secretary.” He reminded her.

“Is she really  _ just _ your secretary?” Seraphina questioned, but he didn’t say anything.

“You're imagining things.” He suggested and Seraphina just smiled at him.

“Really? So did I imagine the sweet and delicate way you’ve treated her today?” Seraphina pointed out.

“We have a good working relationship.” He concluded, there was no way he was going to give in.

“Don’t let a pair of legs distract you from work Percy.” Seraphina pleaded and she moved past him and left the room, leaving him there alone to stew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, just some light torture and finger breaking, no big deal.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Percival went back to the pile of paperwork on his desk and at 6:00 he woke Edith up and took her home. She seemed hesitant as she walked up the stone steps of her apartment and quickly turned around asking him if he wanted to come up for tea.

He laughed gently and followed her upstairs where she frantically went to work on the tea without even taking off her coat. Percival shut the door behind him and went into the kitchenette where he pried the kettle from her hands saying he would take care of it and instructed her to get ready for bed.

She didn’t argue and shut herself in the bathroom while he filled up the kettle, put it on the stove and hung his coat up on the back of one of the dining chairs. Without fail he tripped over her cat, who had been standing right underneath him.

After a few minutes, the tea was ready on the table and she still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. He knocked on the door and heard her sniffle before she opened it and met him in a long nightgown with a blank face, her eyes were red though and he couldn’t help but pull her into a hug to let her know everything would be okay. Percival knew he wouldn’t be going home, but he still waited for Edith to ask him to stay which she did after they finished their tea.

“You’re going to sleep in your suit?” She asked when he sat dressed in the bed beside her after kicking off his shoes.

“I won’t... as long as you don’t mind.” He said as he stood back up and removed his waistcoat and dress shirt and set them aside on the vanity. His hand hesitated on his belt when he noticed Edith’s eyes on him with a faint blush on her otherwise emotionless face.

She caught herself staring and turned away quickly, pulling her blankets up over her shoulders and turning over to lay on her side facing the wall. Percival smiled to himself, at least she wasn’t too traumatized to allow herself a distraction. 

He removed his pants so that he remained in just his undershirt and boxer shorts and shut off the single light that lit the whole apartment before climbing back into the bed. Percival laid flat on his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling more than a little awkward.

He had laid in this bed with her before over the summer, although the circumstances now were different. He hadn’t noticed how little space there was for both of them on the mattress, he didn’t know if it was appropriate to get under the blankets with her, or if he should even tell her ‘goodnight’. So, instead, he just laid there in the dark on his back, as close to the edge of the bed as he could get to maintain a respectable distance.

As always, sleep came with great difficulty and he stared at the ceiling for what felt like ages. Edith appeared to be fast asleep with her back still to him although after watching her for a while, he noticed she wasn’t asleep at all.

“Edith?” He whispered.

“Yes?” She replied and turned over to meet his eyes in the dark.

“Why are you still up?” He asked softly.

“Same reason you are.” She whispered back, he smirked and she reached out her arm, her hand grabbing his side and urging him closer to her.

Percival obliged and moved further onto the bed, she sat up and pulled the blankets over him and laid back on her side, her warm body pressed against his as she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around him. He couldn’t recall ever feeling something so perfect and he stroked her hair a few times before his eyes started to close.

In the morning, he woke on his side, with her back pressed to his chest from the tight grip he held on her waist with his arm. He couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss on the back of her neck which sat exposed to him. He smiled sleepy, as goosebumps spread across her shoulder and arm as a shiver ran through her when his lips touched the delicate flesh at the nape of her neck.

He groaned when he realized he needed to get up and go into the office. He wasn’t tired, no, in fact, he had slept straight through the night, a rare occurrence for him. He groaned because he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with Edith and bask in the warmth of her.

Percival decided to let her sleep and slowly got out of the bed so as to not disturb her. He grabbed his clothes off the vanity and went to the bathroom to wash and dress. Once he was ready, he went back to the bed and sat delicately on the edge so he could put on his shoes.

He was grateful to be a boring enough man to have multiples of the same suit which he always wore to work, it just meant no one would notice he hadn’t gone home last night. He went into the kitchen and put on his coat before stopping and looking over Edith still fast asleep. He decided he couldn’t leave without telling her and went back over to the bed, placing a hand on her arm and gently rousing her.

“I am heading into the office. Will you be okay by yourself?” He asked her softly, as she wiped the sleep from her eyes and nodded yes.

“Good.” He said and placed a kiss on her forehead as she closed her eyes with a tired smile.

The day was long and filled with more interrogations with another Auror now recording in Edith’s place. Percival managed to extract a decent amount of information on the Brotherhood. 

For one, the members they caught knew much more about magic than anyone expected and revealed they had been trained to look through the illusions meant to hide the school; which was how they found it.

There had been no secondary defence to alert the staff and students of intruders because it never seemed possible that anyone would be able to make their way past the enchantments onto the grounds.

The five members who had been caught and interrogated were low ranking, only three of them had actually participated in the attack on the school. One said there had been twenty of them total who entered, set off the bombs and snatched the students but the NoMaj had no answers as to why the children were taken or for what purpose.

The oldest of the NoMaj’s they caught was sentenced to death after admitting under the influence of Veritaserum that he was part of the group that had murdered Benjamin Rosenfeld and his family at the end of the summer. 

All the new information was unsettling and suggested something far more troublesome, the Brotherhood was more than capable than they had previously believed of exposing the Wizarding World. 

Percival got home that night, peeled off his clothes and threw himself on the bed mentally exhausted and praying for sleep that never came. Around midnight he sat up and grabbed his cigarettes from the bedside table, lighting one and sitting back against the headboard.

His mind drifted to Edith and he smiled to himself when he remembered how the prickles danced across her when he had kissed her neck that morning. He wondered what she would have done had she been awake, would she have pulled away from him or arched her back and pressed herself further into his chest to ask for more.

The knot in his abdomen formed quickly, and Percival took a long pull on his cigarette while staring at his growing arousal with disdain. Why did he do this to himself? He had been trying very hard to keep his mind away from inappropriate thoughts of sweet Edith, but there were times, like this one when he was most stressed, where he utterly screwed up.

Cold showers didn’t help anymore, nothing helped anymore except for giving in to the devious thoughts and allowing himself to find release in his own hand. He took another pull on his cigarette and reached his free hand down to begin stroking himself.

He thought of how close their bodies had been as they laid together in her bed, how easily he could have run his hand underneath her nightgown and touched her most intimate spot. 

He could have pressed himself against her backside and shown her how much he wanted to be inside of her while covering her neck and shoulders in needy kisses. Percival tossed his cigarette into the ashtray to focus on his desperation, needing the firmer grip of his dominant hand.

He was dying to know what secrets lay beneath her clothes, wanting to stake his claim to the sweetest spots of her body. He already decided that there was a far more desirable piece of territory than the nape of her neck, oh yes, some undiscovered and delightful patch of skin that would elicit breathy moans from her delicate mouth.

Percival shivered and tried to even out his breathing as he held himself in a death grip and abused his aching erection in a frantic attempt to reach release. He recalled the night they got drinks and how she pulled away each time he tried to kiss her like some wicked little thing.

He should have bent her over his knee, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties and spanked her for being such a tease. That last thought did him in, and he huffed as he came, spilling his seed on his hand and stomach with the last few strokes.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, relishing in the aftermath before heading to the bathroom to clean himself up. Percival climbed back into bed, finding sleep waiting for him under the covers.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Percival let out a grumble on Saturday morning when he received a reply from Edith saying that she could not join him for a walk because Angelica had unexpectedly arrived last night from England to spend the holiday with her and wouldn’t be leaving until the upcoming weekend. He kicked himself for being disappointed, he was actually happy that she wouldn’t be alone for Thanksgiving next week. 

He gave an exasperated sigh knowing that his mother was set to arrive in New York the Monday after next meaning he would hardly see Edith at all. At least he had managed to get her to stop pestering him by mail about his ‘mystery woman’ and promised they’d talk about it when she arrived in the city. He’d have to remind Boodey to prepare one of the guest rooms for her stay.

On Monday, Edith arrived at the office late for the first time ever, that is, if you consider two-minutes past the hour late. She came into his office, coat still on with his coffee in one hand, her tea in the other and the newspapers tucked under her arm.

“Late night?” He asked, taking both cups from her and placing them on his desk and she waved the door shut and sat exhausted in one of the chairs.

“Angelica likes to talk a lot.” She said.

“No… Angelica is unable to stay silent for more than a minute.” She corrected and Percival chuckled.

“I feel your frustration. My mother's boat is due next week.” He said sipping his coffee and opening up one of the newspapers.

“Aww, Percy gets to see his sweet mummy Graves.” She teased and he glared at her over the headlines.

“Just do me a favour. If my mother corners you, run.” He said jokingly.

“Am I in trouble with your mother?” She laughed.

“Not at all. She’s just on a mission to find the mystery woman who has stolen my heart that I have been hiding from her.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You told your mum about me?” She said, raising an eyebrow and trying to hide a nervous blush behind her tea.

“I may have mentioned to her some time ago that there was a particularly nice woman who I greatly appreciated.” He said quickly.

“And then she interpreted that in a unique way that she does and has been harassing me ever since.” He added and Edith couldn’t help but laugh at the hole he had dug himself into.

“I can tell her it’s Angelica.” Edith proposed with a wicked smile.

“I will… do something I haven’t fully thought through if you do.” He said hesitantly, stopping himself from saying he’d spank her.

“Are you blushing?” She asked in shock, as the heat rose in his face. He threw up the newspaper to avoid her gaze but he could hear her trying not to laugh.

“I’m pretty sure there is a stack of reports on your desk that need to be in by lunch.” He said and when she stood to leave, he caught the smile still on her lips.

“I’m not going to survive until January am I?” Percival asked himself.

Percival grumbled when on Tuesday afternoon, Angelica showed up at the office to take Edith to lunch. He had spent very little alone time with Edith since getting back from Virginia but being the gentleman he was, he offered to treat both of them. The three of them sat in the restaurant and Angelica regaled them with stories of a man she had met while working at the wizard’s bank in London. 

“I’m sure he is great.” Edith tried to say sincerely but she didn’t seem to actually like her friend's newest beau who Percival admitted to himself sounded like a self-centred brat.

“Oh hush. You won’t even admit you’re seeing someone.” Angelica teased.

“I’m not.” Edith lied.

“Mr. Graves, your secretary is a terrible liar.” Angelica joked.

“What makes you so sure she is seeing someone?” Percival asked, pretending like this was all brand new information to him, he was a brilliant liar. Angelica scooted her seat closer to him to dish out her gossip and Edith rolled her eyes at him.

“Okay, so I got to her flat on Friday night and at first everything seemed normal but I couldn’t help but get the feeling something was off.” Angelica said and Percival suddenly wondered if he had accidentally left something behind.

“I couldn’t figure it out so I didn’t bother with it anymore. Saturday we went out for some sightseeing and did some shopping. Popped into some shanty hut for food, got some drinks at that wizard's club in Midtown, normal ladies day out, right?” Percival glanced over at Edith, his eyes wide because Angelica really did talk a lot.

“Anyway, I am trying to convince her to talk to some cute guys and she is all ‘Oh no, I am not ready for that.’, ‘His hair is too greasy.’, ‘I will not snog a stranger.’ because she has some ridiculous standards.” Angelica said mimicking Edith with the worst Scottish accent.

“Cannot get her to budge one bit. So we go back to her place, we are getting ready for bed and I pick up my pillow and that’s when I knew the witch was holding out on me.” Angelica said as if she had revealed something amazing. Percival furrowed his brow and shook his head slowly.

“I don’t understand.” He said and Angelica just huffed in frustration.

“Her pillow Mr. Graves. It had a man’s cologne all over it, she had a guy in her bed and she didn’t tell me.” Angelica said.

Percival froze and slowly sat back putting distance between him and Angelica because she smelled his cologne on Edith’s blankets and he wore that cologne every day.

“That is some detective work.” He laughed weakly. Edith looked like she wanted to strangle Angelica right there at the table.

“Tell me about it and she’s still trying to say she’s not seeing anybody.” Angelica said in disbelief.

“It is a very nice cologne too, it kind of smells like… like…” She trailed off before snapping her head towards Percival and then looking back at Edith with wide eyes.

“Mais c'est votre patron!” Angelica said in shock.

“Je jure que si vous essayez de me faire la morale sur la morale, je ne vous parlerai plus jamais!” Edith said quickly with a harshness in her tone.

Percival was very confused as the two women continued to exchange words in French in very low but angry tones. Eventually, Angelica turned to Percival and gave him a cheap smile.

“We’re just debating what to bring to the Goldstein's for Thanksgiving.” Angelica lied with a smile. The rest of lunch was very awkward and very quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angelica in my mind is a revolutionary woman. She is the epitome of a 1920s flapper, on-trend, liberated and far too involved in people’s personal relationships. However, she’s still able to restrain herself. In my mind, Angelica is British on her mother's side and French on her father's side and is fluent in French as well. Part of the reason it was so easy for Edith to learn French is that Angelica taught her words and phrases while growing up together at Hogwarts.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Since Wednesday was a half-day, he decided to take Edith out for a longer lunch, just the two of them this time. They managed to laugh about the whole fiasco from the day before. Angelica as it turned out got very motherly with Edith when she got home after work.

After lunch he took her for a walk, it was cold out but neither of them seemed to care. They continued walking until they found a nice bench to sit on.

“Can I ask you something?” He approached cautiously.

“Depends on what you want to ask.” She said and Percival hesitated.

“What exactly did you and Angelica talk about last night?” And she laughed.

“She, uh… she was concerned,” Edith said flatly.

“I haven’t shown interest in anyone since William died. She was worried I may be acting recklessly.” She added, in one quick breath. Percival looked at her as she looked down at her lap, he hadn’t forgotten about the NoMaj boy, in fact, he often wondered about him.

“What made you love William?” He asked lightly, trying not to look her in the face. She was quiet for a moment before she answered.

“I don’t know. I guess it is easy to love someone who doesn’t think you are possessed by the devil.” She said matter-of-factly. Percival hadn’t expected that answer.

“I just mean, he didn’t think I was strange like everyone else did. He cared about my well-being, he made me laugh, he was proud of me for getting a  _ proper  _ education. He made me feel… normal.” She explained.

“He didn’t know you were a witch?” Percival asked.

“He did. Said it didn’t matter.” She told him, looking at her hands which were turning red in the cold November air. Her eyes had also become very red but not from the cold, from tears threatening to fall.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.” He offered sympathetically, they had never spoken about it and maybe now was as good as time as any.

“I was eighteen and I just lost the boy I had loved. It felt like the end of the world. Angelica tried so hard to help me through it but I just resided myself to being an old crone. She decided to live for both of us.” She admitted to him with a weak laugh and a sniffle.

“Sometimes we just need to be alone for a while… or several decades.” He told her, he understood if only just a little, he had been alone for a long time.

“So, who destroyed whom?” Edith asked, giving him an intense look.

“Who destroyed what?” He asked confused and she just scoffed at him.

“I’m not dumb Percival. A woman like Picquery doesn’t act the way she does for no reason.” Edith said and he gave her a grimace at Seraphina’s name.

“I answered your questions.” She reminded him and he let out a groan knowing she was right.

“We were seventeen.” Was all he said but he knew that answer wouldn’t suffice.

“Aannnd?” She pushed.

“And I loved her but she was messing around with Charles Blount the entire three years we were together and I only found out seventh year when I caught them fooling around on the central school tower.” Percival admitted in one quick breath. Edith’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

“She’s a harlot.” She said in a whisper.

“And the president.” Percival reminded her and they were both quiet for a moment.

“I got a good slap on the back of my head from my father after that. He told me the only relationship that mattered was the one I had with my work, so I put everything else aside and here I am.” He added.

“So we are just two lonely people.” He said looking at her.

“An old man and an old crone.” She laughed, her nose now also red.

“You are the damn prettiest crone I’ve ever seen.” He said with a teasing smile, cupping her face in his hand and placing a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Come on, let me get you back home before you turn into a block of ice.” He said, standing up and holding out his arm for her. Percival went home afterward and relaxed for the rest of the day. 

On Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, Boodey arrived and made a small dinner which they waited to eat until Albert, the night doorman arrived. Yes, Percival spent the holidays he didn’t see his mother with a ridiculously loyal house-elf and a cynical elderly part-vampire.

It was then he realized his life was full of lonely people. Lonely secretary, lonely house-elf, lonely doorman, even his mother was lonely though she would probably never dare admit it, he knew she was. He found it fascinating how the loneliest people gravitated towards each other. 

After dinner, Albert went back down to the lobby to finish his shift and Percival sat with Boodey in his study, who went over the list of things he’d have to do on Sunday to prepare for Mother Graves’ arrival.

“Sir will stop smoking in the house, yes? Mother hates it when you do that.” Boodey reminded him as Percival stood at the window halfway through a cigarette.

“Yes, yes. Only on the terrace, I promise.” He groaned.

“Shall I bring out the Christmas decorations for her?” Boodey asked.

“I have decorations?” Percival asked.

“Yes sir, the ones Mother bought you about six years ago.” Boodey informed him. Percival had no recollection of those and it was evident on his face, the house-elf just sighed, not surprised that his employer had no idea what he owned.

“I will set them aside for Sunday.” Boodey said.

“Would you like me to bring a tree home for her?” Boodey asked next.

“Oh, yes. Don’t put anything on it though, you know she loves to do that part herself.” Percival reminded the elf.

“Of course sir.” Boodey said.

The Thanksgiving weekend dragged out as Percival sat home alone waiting for something to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t noticed, loneliness is the running theme in this story and all the characters experience it in some form. Percival is a middle-aged man who is too consumed by work to form relationships. Edith has lost everyone she’s ever cared about. Boodey is a free elf yet stays working for Percival because he has no one else. Albert, the half-vampire is an outcast in both magical and muggle society and isolates for that reason. Even Percival’s mother and Angelica are lonely in ways yet to be revealed.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

On Sunday afternoon, he got dressed and made his way to Edith’s after she sent him a note saying that Angelica had gotten on a train to visit another friend in Atlanta and wouldn’t be back until the days leading into Christmas.

Sunday was much colder than he expected though, the streets were empty and icy with Edith slipping enough times for Percival to deem the world too much of a hazard for her. Surprisingly, she didn’t actually fall until they almost made it back to her apartment and it had been mostly his fault… well it was entirely his fault.

Something about Edith brought out his playful side and he had been scooping up handfuls of fresh snow and sprinkling it over her head because he loved the way the flakes fell on her hair, much to her annoyance. She had attempted to retaliate, trying to throw snow on top of his head but he stood just short of a foot taller than her and the attempt was unsuccessful.

When she tried for a second time he grabbed her hand and like ridiculous school children they wrestled for control of the handful of snow she had been holding. As she laughed uncontrollably while trying to overpower him to no avail she stepped on a patch of snow-covered ice and slipped, falling flat on her back on the sidewalk.

“Oh shhhit.” Percival said, as he quickly came to her side and helped her up.

“Are you alright?” He asked after he got her to her feet and began checking her for any scrapes.

“I’m cold.” Edith grumbled and laughed at the same time, brushing the snow from her backside, but it was pointless, her coat was soaking wet and he quickly ushered her the few remaining feet to her building.

Inside her apartment, he took her wet coat and his dry one and hung them up before turning on the stove to keep her warm. Edith’s clothes, unfortunately, also did not fair the cold wet snow and he sat in the kitchen while she changed in the bathroom. Sitting next to the stove felt nice, but it did very little to heat up the rest of the tiny apartment. 

“Is it always this cold in here?” He asked as she came into the kitchenette wrapped up in a wool robe and moving the other chair closer to the stove.

“Yes, actually.” She said, sitting down and noting the look of concern on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me I promise.” She assured him, as she moved her seat closer to his so that her knees rested between his legs as he sat back in the other chair. Percival felt a knot form inside of him as Edith leaned forward running both hands up his chest and wrapping them around his neck bringing him closer.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his heart picking up pace as she brushed her nose against his.

“I’m trying to kiss you.” She said with a smile as she got up from her chair and pressed herself into him.

“Oh.” He said hoarsely, getting lost in the intensity of her eyes. Edith already knew that she already had him unraveling without having done much of anything.

She pressed her lips to his gently before her mouth slipped open and her tongue brushed against his lips. Percival sighed and grabbed her face, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue into her mouth to meet hers.

His hands found their way into her hair, his fingers winding through each curl and no doubt destroying her updo. Each kiss was full of want and she continued to press herself into him until he finally pulled her onto his lap.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing each other needily only coming up for brief gasps of air before reconnecting their lips. He felt the knot within him growing tighter the more he kissed her and his heart dropped when she took his lower lip gently between her teeth as he broke for air.

“Ohhh, no, no, don’t do that.” He groaned, shaking his head and stopping to catch his breath.

“That is a dangerous thing to do my dear.” He said, his eyes lustful as he moved one hand to her face and ran a thumb over her lips. Edith’s cheeks were flushed red and her own breathing was rapid.

“I’m sorry.” She said a bit of panic in her eyes.

“No, don’t be sorry.” He said gently, placing a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Let’s not get carried away though.” He told her. He was trying very hard to stay in control of the ache wanting to make itself known in his pants. 

“Don’t you want me?” She asked with the sweetest eyes.

“Ohhhhh,” He laughed looking her up and down.

“There is no way I wouldn’t want you.” He said darkly, he had thought far too often about it to deny anything. Her eyes grew hungry and she grabbed the back of his head and crashed their lips into each other.

“Edith,” He said as he sat up straight, bringing her back to her feet and sliding his hands from her face to her shoulders and down her arms until both of her hands were in his. He knew they’d have to have this conversation eventually he just wasn’t expecting it to come up like this.

“Sweetheart, have you ever been with someone?” He asked delicately, he had already guessed the answer but he still needed to make sure. She looked away from him annoyed and waited a moment before responding.

“... No. William and I were going to wait.” She confirmed, seemingly embarrassed, her face turning redder.

“Were you going to tell me, or just wait until I deflowered you?” He asked sternly.

“It isn’t a big deal. I’m a grown woman, it doesn’t matter anymore like it used to.” She added quickly and defensively.

“It does though.” He said and she looked at him grumpily.

“I don’t want to rush you, or hurt you.” He admitted and her face softened because she knew he meant it.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” He added and she gave him a pouty face like a child.

“Percival Graves, defender of my womanly virtue.” She teased, giving him a sweet, innocent kiss.

He laughed and returned the kiss, pulling her back towards him and sitting her across his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist letting both hands rest on her hip. She felt perfect in his arms and he wished he could keep her like that. 

Edith questioned him as they sat like that by the fire. She wanted to know when and who he had lost his virginity and Percival wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her. It wasn’t the most intimate or personal experience but after some pestering, he admitted that he was eighteen and his cousin Victor had decided it would be a great idea to pay a lady of the night to make Percival a man.

“What, the actual hell?” She asked and he sighed embarrassed.

“I told you it was bad.” He said and she decided to change the subject about what it was like to go to Ilvermorny.

They talked for hours and Percival couldn’t bring himself to leave that night, he just wanted to spend every moment with her. It didn’t help that when he was getting ready to leave, Edith tempted him by saying that she was still really cold with the sweetest eyes imaginable. His heart melted and before he knew it he was down to his underclothes and holding Edith close to him under a pile of warm blankets as they both fell asleep.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I want to thank you all so much for sticking with this story, I have about 50 chapters so far with no ending in sight so hope you're all in for the long haul!

On Monday morning, Percival woke before the sun and lingered under the covers for a while with Edith asleep beside him. He pressed his face into her hair and sighed deeply, he didn’t think he would ever get used to leaving her. He slipped out of the bed and got dressed before kneeling on the bed and gently waking her with a kiss. 

She groaned disappointed that he was leaving but also still very sleepy, he kissed her again and told her he'd see her later. He apparated home to shower and dress before heading into headquarters. By the time he got into the office, Edith was already at her desk fully focused on a stack of paperwork.

He left shortly after lunch to retrieve his mother from the dock where her boat had arrived. When she spotted him in the crowd, she scurried over to him and set down her suitcase pulling him into a tight hug and kissing his cheek repeatedly. He carried her bag for her as she rattled on about a variety of things but most importantly whether she would be meeting his mystery woman.

“Oh please tell me I get to meet her, please.” His mother begged as he opened the door to one of the spare bedrooms and set down her suitcase.

“Absolutely not.” He said sternly.

“But you promised.” She said.

“I did no such thing. You made assumptions like you always do and I choose to ignore them.” He reminded her.

“Like you always do.” She said annoyed.

Despite this Mother Graves was on her best behavior for most of the first few days at least. Yes, the first few days she was as festive as she always was, putting out the decorations Boodey had taken out of the closet. 

She also decorated the tree Boodey set up in the living room and like the good mother she was, she made dinner every night when Percival got home. But by the end of the first week of December, she had become stir crazy in the apartment while he was at work. 

On Friday, his mother arrived at the office unexpectedly just before lunch. He hadn’t realized it at first because he usually kept his office door closed and was far too wrapped up in his paperwork to see her through the frosted windows.

“Mister Graves,” Edith called as she gently opened the door after knocking.

“Hmm?” Was all her grumbled without looking.

“Your mother is here sir.” She said and he snapped his head up and quickly stood up as Edith let his mother into the office before closing the door to give them privacy.

“Whatever happened to Mrs. Caddersom?” His mother asked confused as she made herself comfortable on the couch.

“She retired a year ago.” He informed her.

“You didn’t tell me that. Although Miss Matasen is a pretty little thing.” She smiled at him in the way mothers do when teasing their children.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” He asked, slightly annoyed.

“I got weary of that apartment of yours. You know I hate staying in.” She complained.

“Well, there isn’t much for you to do here.” He reminded her.

“I know, now I remember why I went back to Ireland. Americans are so stuffy in their rules, not even a Wizarding market for us to gather and shop at.” She pointed out.

“Why don’t you reach out to Mrs. Neil, she still lives over by the bridge.” He asked.

“I already did, that dreadful nephew of hers is visiting and you know how much I want to slap that boy across the face.” She seethed. Percival laughed remembering the last time he and his mother went to see Mrs. Neil, her nephew, just a bit younger than Percival was there and had some very archaic opinions of women that angered his mother.

“Alright, fine. I promise to take you somewhere this weekend, but in the meantime, you’ll just have to sit tight.” He promised and she smiled.

“Is that funny little tavern in the park still open?” She asked curiously and he gave her a face. Of course, it was open, it was always open, it had been since he was a child.

“Mother, would you like to join me for lunch?” He asked with a smile, she annoyed him but he loved her and the tavern in the park had always been their favorite place to go for lunch.

His mother smiled delightfully and he grabbed his coat, both of them exiting the office and when he looked up at Edith to ask her if she wanted him to bring her back anything, she was already munching away on toast. He felt a little guilty knowing that she wouldn’t have a full lunch because of his mother’s unexpected arrival.

Over the weekend he took his mother to a stage play and they walked through some NoMaj markets that had been set up for the holidays. His mother tried on several occasions to get him to purchase some trinket or shiny piece of jewelry as a gift for his mystery woman which left him grumpy.

“Oh stop being such a schoolboy.” She teased.

“What about this, it’s a brooch? All women need a good brooch.” His mother declared, holding out the jewel-encrusted token.

“I don’t think she is a jewel type of woman.” He said and then quickly regretted it. When he turned to look at his mother she had a huge smile plastered across her face, she had got him.

“Oh? What type of woman is she?” His mother asked delightedly.

“I’m never taking you shopping again.” He informed her but he still ended up looking at brooches anyway, his mother giving him a glare when she saw him purchasing one.

Percival’s mother didn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘stay home’ and she arrived at the office the first three days of the following week to go to lunch with her son; something that annoyed him because it meant he didn’t get time with Edith who actually seemed amused by the whole thing.

On the second Thursday of December, Percival sat in a meeting for most of the morning and when he arrived back at his office he found his mother in one of the waiting chairs beside Edith’s desk as they chatted away. Edith didn’t seem to be in any sort of distress as she spoke with his mother, she looked about as calm and collected as she normally did.

“Mister Graves.” Edith said cooly when she spotted him.

“Oh sweetie, you never told me how delightful your new secretary is.” His mother said with the most genuine smile as she looked over at him. Percival just stared at them both for a long moment trying to figure out what was going on.

“Sweetie are you alright?” His mother asked, a bit concerned.

“That’s just his confused face. It kind of looks like he’s having an aneurysm.” Edith said boldly, looking down at a report on her desk as she wrote some more details down.

His mother chuckled and Percival glared at Edith who looked up from her paperwork with the most brilliant poker face that he’d ever seen. Percival retreated into his office and grabbed his coat before coming back out and nudging his head at his mother as if to say ‘let’s go’.

“Oh Miss Matasen, would you care to join us for lunch?” His mother asked as she got out of her seat and put on her own coat.

“Oh, no, thank you ma’am.” Edith said quickly.

“Dear it’s no problem. My son has no manners, with all that stuff on your desk he could at least buy you lunch every once in a while.” His mother insisted grabbing Edith’s coat from the stand and pulling her out of her chair by the wrist.

Percival ran his hand across his face slightly embarrassed as his mother passed him with Edith in tow. When he looked up Edith was looking back at him wide-eyed and panicked as his mother dragged her along. Why was this his life?


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

His mother walked arm in arm with Edith, who looked like a trapped animal as they left headquarters and entered the park across the street before Percival apparated them all a short walk from the tavern. Percival gave her a look that told her to relax, he was almost certain his mother had no idea Edith was the so-called mystery woman he’d been seeing.

“So my dear, tell me, where are you from? Clearly, you’re from my side of the pond.” His mother asked.

“I was raised just outside of Inverness, ma’am.” Edith replied softly after the three of them had sat down at a table.

“Oh please don’t call ma’am, I hate it. Makes me feel old. Riona will do just fine.” His mother said, and it caught him a little by surprise. His mother rarely let anyone call her by her first name. In fact, the entire three years he was with Seraphina, she was only allowed to refer to his mother as Mother Graves or Mrs. Graves.

“And what shall I call you love?” His mother asked Edith with a smile and Edith gave Percival a questioning look because she had truly no idea what was happening.

“Uh, Edith ma’- uh Riona.” She quickly corrected.

“Oh Edith, such a lovely name.” His mother said with a sincere smile.

Percival’s mother had released an unrelenting series of questions at Edith throughout lunch, most of which Edith didn’t seem bothered with. Questions about what she missed most about Europe, what her time was like at Hogwarts, how they both had a Professor Binns while at school, albeit the man had died and kept teaching as a ghost by the time Edith had him.

Percival thought that perhaps his mother was not in fact suspicious of Edith at all, she was just lonely and found someone she could relate to in his understandably enchanting secretary. It appeared that Edith had realized this too and she relaxed more.

They appeared to be in the clear with his mother, at least he thought so until he arrived home after work later that day.

“I can see why you refused to tell me about Edith. She is rather young, not that it matters.” His mother said not looking up from her book.

“Sorry?” Percival asked as he hung up his coat, his mother just glanced up at him and gave him that knowing look. What was with these women? Could they all just read him as easily as the book in his mother’s hand?

“You’re my son, you can’t hide from me as easily as you do with everyone else.” His mother reminded him, her voice stern.

“What gave it away?” He asked sitting in the chair across from her. He wasn’t even going to attempt denying it anymore, once his mother solved a puzzle and put on her stern voice there wasn’t much that could be done.

“Well for one, Mrs. Caddersom worked for you for nearly ten years and you suddenly get a new secretary which you failed to mention.” His mother said matter-of-factly.

“Fail to tell me for the first few months, no big deal, you’re busy. However, it has been nearly a year and a half and I only find out when I come to see it for myself.” She rationalized.

“Second, you sent me a letter saying there is someone you’ve come to greatly appreciate who is putting up with you… well, the only place you ever go is work, so clearly it had to be someone you worked with.” She added.

“Next, you said a jeweled brooch did not suit your mystery woman. Edith only has one piece of jewelry from what I could see and she keeps it tucked into her blouse so no one can see it, so clearly she’s not a lady who indulges in lavish things.” His mother continued.

“She did not have lunch with her any of the days I dropped in, so either she eats out quite often or doesn’t eat at all and with those full hips my dear, she definitely isn’t starving herself. So you clearly take her out for lunch which is why she was so thrown off when I invited her, but still mostly relaxed throughout the meal.” Percival was slightly terrified by the amount of information his mother had seemingly pulled out of thin air.

“You would have made a brilliant Auror.” He told his mother flatly.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She said with a smile.

“Now spill it. What has you so captivated?” She said sharply.

“There is nothing to spill. I enjoy her company.” He told her.

“That’s all? You like being around her?” His mother asked skeptically.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” He admitted, and he really didn’t. He cared for Edith deeply, in ways he didn’t fully understand, and felt things for her he couldn’t put into words.

“Try.” His mother encouraged and he thought about it for a long time before leaving the room without saying anything at all.

Dinner was quiet between the two of them, neither saying anything until Percival finally broke the silence by responding to the query his mother had presented to him earlier.

“Edith makes me happy.” He said not looking up from his plate and he didn’t need to look at his mother to tell that she was smiling.

“If you’re nervous you can tell her the brooch was from me for being a great conversationalist.” His mother said before continuing her meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, Mother Graves, who I have named Riona. I imagine Percival looks a lot like his mother. His mother is also not some old crone in my mind which is why Edith’s age doesn’t appear to bother her very much in this chapter. In fact, he gets along better with his mother because she is young, having had him when she was 22 years old. Percival’s father on the other hand was a much older man, who was 40 years old when Percival was born which explains the rocky relationship he describes between them. This makes Mother Graves 57 at the end of 1924 and if Father Graves was still alive he would have been 75.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Percival decided against telling Edith that his mother knew when they went to lunch alone on Friday; he didn’t want to scare her. After all, this was still new for both of them, they hadn’t even gotten past kissing.

“Oh, uh. This is for you.” Percival said, pulling a small leather pouch about the size of his palm out of his pocket and placing it on the table. Edith slid it across the table with a skeptical face before opening it and pouring its content into her hand.

“Percival.” That was all she managed to say when she saw the small golden brooch shaped like a flower with mother-of-pearl acting as the four petals.

“Merry Christmas…” He said slowly trying to process her reaction.

“Percival, I can’t accept this.” She said rapidly and he just laughed nervously.

“It’s a gift, so you can accept it and you will.” He told her a little worried that he may have overstepped.

“Besides, my mother insisted, she really enjoyed having lunch with you and she says all women should have a good brooch.” He added praying like hell that she’d believe it.

“Your mother?” Edith asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay, no. I just really thought you’d like it. I’m sorry if it is too forward.” He said panicking and she just smiled at him.

“I just mean that I didn’t spend as much as much on your gift.” She said and he stared at her confused.

“You got me something?” He asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t bring it to lunch though because I didn’t want it to get confiscated.” She said and he was suddenly even more confused.

“What the hell did you get me?” He asked.

“An eighteen-year-old bottle of Bowmore single malt scotch whiskey.” She said in a low voice and he couldn’t help but laugh. Edith took the brooch in her hand and pinned it to her shirt. 

He watched her as she did, she looked up at him with a warm smile when she was done. The brooch suited her; delicate and simple. For a moment she seemed to be the only other person in the restaurant with him and if he didn’t know better he would have kissed her passionately right there.

He did manage to steal a kiss at the end of the day when everyone had cleared out and they stayed late going over a few last-minute things before he took off for two weeks. He got up from his chair, rounded the desk, and grabbed her hand gently pulling her to stand up from her seat. He kissed her deeply, holding her tight by the waist and the back of her head as their tongues took part in an enthusiastic dance.

It was enough to get him through the Christmas holiday in Cape Cod with his mother who had finally stopped pestering him. Overall it was one of the best Christmases he had in a long time but perhaps that was because he had been happier than he had been in years.

He was sad to see his mother leave the Friday after but also relieved because perhaps things would finally return back to normal. No interrupted lunches, no prying (from his mother or Angelica), and hopefully less chaos around headquarters.

There was only one final hurdle for 1924, the New Year’s Eve Gala that he so greatly hated. It was on Monday and he really did not want to attend. Perhaps it will be better this year, he thought, remembering that Edith was also mandated to go. Although last year’s gala did not end well for them, however, a lot had changed since then and he found himself looking forward to it, even if just a little.

On Monday he dished out the regular pleasantries to MACUSA employees as they approached him at the gala as he patiently waited for Edith to show. He suddenly realized she was the only person he could seem to maintain any kind of conversation with that didn’t involve work.

He checked his watch and tossed back a glass of champagne before reaching for another.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you didn’t want to be here.” Picquery teased as she came up next to him.

“Oh what would give you that idea?” He asked, glaring at her and she just smiled deviously at him.

“Waiting for your legs?” She asked but Percival didn’t reply. Despite their conversation nearly a month ago he never actually admitted to Seraphina that there was something between him and Edith.

“I see you still haven’t received that fiery pitchfork you’ve been wanting for Christmas.” He said, trying to act surprised. Seraphina laughed and sipped on her champagne as they stood beside each other smiling and saying hello to every person that passed.

“Your legs are here.” Seraphina said.

“Hmm?” Percival asked and Seraphina used her glass to point into the crowd as Percival looked over while taking a sip from his own.

He choked on his champagne when he saw Edith standing beside Queenie, not noticing him and looking like something divine and heaven-sent. Edith wore a maroon gown covered in a black mesh embellished with gold beads with fluttery cap sleeves; her dress was more form-fitting than the one from last year, so much so that it revealed the natural curve of her hips and breasts and the delicate nature of her waist. She wore her hair half up and half down, elaborate twists acting like a crown, the rest long and curled to where it sat naturally at the small of her back.

Percival kept choking on his drink, trying to clear his throat while Seraphina took his drink from him and slapped his back hard to help clear his airways.

“Wow, her legs are that nice?” Seraphina asked with surprise and he just shook his head pretending he had no idea what the President was talking about as he regained his composure as he quickly scooped up three more glasses of champagne.

“Shut up.” He growled walking away from her and towards Edith and Queenie.

“Ladies.” He said nonchalantly, holding out a glass for each of them and they both said thank you.

“Oh, umm… I’m just going to go now.” Queenie said in her usual bubbly manner but a wider than usual smile splayed across her face.

“You look beautiful.” Percival said, much more lustfully than he meant for it to sound as his hand came up to her left collar bone, just by the shoulder to adjust the flower pin he had given her for Christmas.

They stared at each other intensely for a moment before he pulled his hand away and cleared his throat awkwardly. Edith and Percival both chugged their champagne before agreeing that they needed more and finding a waiter. Edith was just as nervous as he was, it was evident across her face, which was red and panicked. They were in a room full of their colleagues with no safe place to chat privately.

This was going to be a very very long night.


	40. Chapter Forty

Percival and Edith stood beside each other awkwardly throughout the night downing whatever glasses of champagne came their way, which was far too many if he was being honest. Every now and then he’d lose her to someone seeking a conversation with either one of them.

About the seventh time it happened, he couldn’t find her again and roamed the room looking for her before concluding that she must have gone to hide elsewhere. He checked the main hall off the lobby but didn’t see her, he even sent Tina Goldstein into the bathroom to look for her with no success.

He walked down several empty corridors far from the party looking for her before he was ready to give up. He passed by one nondescript-looking door with a light coming from the space between where the bottom of the door met the floor before pausing and turning to it curiously. 

He stood there for a moment debating and finally opened the door to see it was a supply closet and sweet Edith sat in it alone on the floor with a bottle of champagne.

“I drink when I’m nervous.” She confessed.

“And hiding in closets?” He asked.

“I do that to get away from people.” She said and he looked down both ends of the hall before stepping into the closet and sitting down against one of the walls beside her.

“May I?” He asked and she handed him the open bottle. They hid there together nursing their way through the champagne, laughing at how awful parties were and all the things they’ve done to get out of them.

When the bottle was empty he stood and pulled her up to her own feet before checking that no one was around to see them exiting a closet together. He may have been slightly intoxicated but he was still cautious. They managed to find more champagne and settled in a corner of the main hall where there were fewer people. 

Percival tried very hard not to laugh as Edith did scarily accurate impressions of various people in their department as they passed by, a thing she said she often did with other nurses during the war to keep spirits up. He just kept his arms crossed in front of him with one hand balled into a fist over his mouth. They were acting like silly teenagers but that’s what happens when you lose track of how much you’ve had to drink.

Just after midnight, Edith had to sit, no longer able to stand. Percival was surprised she even managed to stay on her feet for so long but it was clear she was done for the night. He got their coats and took her outside for fresh air, having a quick smoke for himself.

“Too much excitement?” Marcus called out as he also lit up a cigarette and pointed over to Edith who looked just about ready to fall face-first on the sidewalk.

“Just a bit.” Percival replied as several automobiles passed on the street. Edith stumbled and both he and Marcus jumped, grabbing her to keep her from falling. 

“Everything tastes purple.” Edith said with a disgruntled face. Percival and Marcus gave each other quizzical looks and Percival tossed his cigarette and took hold of Edith, helping her stand fully.

“Okay, I think it’s time to get you home.” He said, finding just a smidgen of sobriety. Marcus bid them goodnight and headed back into headquarters.

Percival was admittedly still a little too drunk to apparate them home safely, so he hailed them a cab. The ride was short, about ten or fifteen minutes but it felt like an eternity because although Edith rested her head on his shoulder, she was incredibly handsy.

When her hand rested on his leg, Percival hadn’t thought much of it but when she began to methodically brush her fingers in teasing circles further up his leg, he felt all the blood rush to his groin.

Percival gently moved her hand off his leg, but a second later it was back and when he looked over at her, those glorious green eyes were full of want. 

“Behave.” He whispered, trying not to get indecent in front of the cab driver, but she just gave him a wicked smile as her hand moved dangerously close to his member causing it to twitch. Percival flinched and grabbed her wrist trying to give her a stern look but unable to contain the smile on his lips.

The taxi stopped in front of her apartment and he paid the man before helping Edith out. She threw herself at him once the cab took off, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hard in the dark cold night. He couldn’t help but melt into the kiss but he reminded himself of how obscenely intoxicated they were and pulled away telling Edith she was a menace.

She smiled and grabbed him by the hand, leading him inside. Edith stumbled up the stairs and fumbled with her keys before tumbling into her apartment. Percival helped her up and closed the door, picking her coat up from the floor where she dropped it and hung it up along with his.

Edith walked over to the stove and lit it, trying to bring warmth to the cold room and he just stood there watching her, wide-eyed as she slid the top of her dress off her shoulders, letting the garment fall down her body to the floor. 

She turned to look at him across the room as she stood there in the low light of the fire wearing nothing but a long tantalizing dress slip and he felt himself grow hard at the sight of her.

He walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist with his hand at the small of her back, unable to help himself from kissing her delicious lips. Edith held the back of his neck with a firm grip, deepening the kiss and running her tongue along his lips.

He welcomed her tongue and slid his own into her hot, wet mouth. She pressed her body against him and he groaned at the contact, gripping tightly at her waist to keep his hands from wandering to places they shouldn’t be.

He desperately wanted to have her, to move his hands and slide them down her hips. To grab her by the hair and have her delicious mouth move across his skin as he ground his desire against her, but he needed to behave, for both their sakes. 

There was far too much alcohol in their blood for him to be sure that she was ready for anything more than kissing. He just couldn’t help but melt into the kisses. Her aggressiveness was arousing, and he felt the strain of lust tucked away beneath his belt. The warmth of her body was utterly intoxicating and she took his lower lip between her teeth in the most sinful way. 

“Edith.” He moaned as she trailed her lips from his mouth to his jaw and neck, each lick and nip driving him further to the edge.

“Yes?” She whispered breathlessly, he was going to break, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down.” He said.

“But I don’t want to.” She mumbled into his neck as she began undoing his bowtie. She gave him a long hard kiss, the kind that calls for the most debauched things to happen next and he quickly removed himself from her grasp when felt himself beginning to visibly bulge through his pants. 

Percival turned away from her and pressed both hands onto the dining table as he leaned against it breathing heavily, his heart racing and feeling like he would explode. She was going to be the ruin of him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, placing a hand on his back, her voice urgent and concerned.

“Yeah, just an old man.” He reminded her with a laugh trying to calm down.

“Do you need to lay down?” She questioned.

“Sweetheart if you put me anywhere near that damn bed I will tear you to shreds.” He growled and she suddenly understood that he was fully aroused and trying very hard to keep his composure.

“Oh, well then,” She trailed with a wicked smile and sparkle in her eye. She was insatiable and intoxicated; her mind only able to focus on the one thing she wanted most.

“You are such a danger to yourself.” He chuckled and she giggled as she eyed him hungrily.

“Take me. I know you want to.” She said as she began sliding the thin straps of her slip down her shoulders. Percival pressed his lips together, trying to remain in control, as he shook his head and stood straight. He stopped her hands and returned the straps to their proper place and quickly said  _ tum somnum _ .

Edith’s face went blank and she blinked a few times before her eyes rolled back and closed as she fell forward unconscious. Percival caught her and held her up against him.

“Oh, I do but I don’t want you to hate me in the morning.” He said to no one. He wouldn’t take advantage of her, no matter how much the champagne and his libido told him to.

She’d probably kill him in the morning either way for placing that sleeping charm on her, that is if she wasn’t too hungover to remember at least. Regardless, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed, setting her down and pulling off her shoes. He stripped down to his underclothes and climbed into the bed beside her, pulling the covers over them both and falling asleep without a struggle.

Percival woke in the morning, laying flat on his stomach with a grumble and headache. There was a chuckle beside him and he opened one eye to see sweet beautiful Edith sitting up against the pillows beside him sipping from a mug.

“Here, you’ll want this if you feel as horrendous as I do.” She said, holding out the drink, a potion no doubt. He thought about it for a moment, before propping himself up on an elbow with half-closed eyes, grabbing the hot mug, and taking a sip.

“Ohhh, coffee.” He said like it was clearly the answer to all of life’s problems.

“Mhm.” She said leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. Percival held the mug firmly as he rolled over and sat up against the headboard next to her where she curled up next to him, her head on his chest.

He sipped the coffee and handed it to her so she could have some more, relaxing and trying to will away the throbbing in his head.

“By the way, if you ever cast a charm on me again, no matter how chivalrous you’re trying to be, I will hex you back to infancy.” She said, looking at him with the sweetest smile on her face as he took the mug back from her.

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t remember that.” He admitted and she laughed.

“I remember everything.” She said, bringing the covers up more to combat the cold.

“Yeah? So you remember tasting purple?” He asked teasingly, as he sipped on the coffee.

“It’s a thing that happens sometimes.” She said.

“Tasting purple?” He questioned.

“Tasting colors or things that aren’t there.” She explained and he couldn’t tell if she was being serious or joking with him. He had learned quickly that she took great enjoyment in messing with him as much as he enjoyed messing with her.

“You are joking?” He asked again skeptically.

“I am being serious.” She assured him, taking the cup from his hand and indulging in the hot drink.

“You never mentioned it.” He noted, bringing his arm around her to get more comfortable.

“Just kind of got used to it. It’s not something that surprises me anymore when it happens.” Edith stated, handing the mug back to him.

“Have you always had that?” Percival wondered.

“Uh, yeah. As a child, I’d get so sick when I heard the trains pass through town because all I could smell was rotting meat.” She said, with a grimace.

“So that’s why you get sick on trains.” Percival realized and she nodded.

“What does a clock smell and taste like?” He asked.

“That… that’s not how it works.” She laughed.

“Explain to me how it works then.” He requested.

“I don’t know. Train engines smell like rotting meat. Thunder smells like blue. Screaming smells like tar.” She tried to untangle the jumble of senses. He thought back to the day of the interrogation when she mentioned everything had tasted like tar and his heart sank a little. So that’s why she reacted so badly, it wasn’t just the trauma, he realized.

“Most of the time someone’s voice just looks like colors.” She added.

“Voices make you see colors?” He questioned, setting the now empty mug down.

“Only some of them.” She confirmed and he held her chin so she’d look at him.

“Does my voice have a color?” He asked with a smile as he kissed her and she smiled back at him.

“It is green, although it varies.” She said.

“In what ways?” He pushed, kissing her again.

“Most of the time your voice is a forest. It’s a really gross artichoke color when you're irritable. A dark, almost devoid of green color when you are angry. It changes between a fern and moss when you talk to me.” She said and he nodded because somehow that all made sense.

“Oh… and those sounds you make when I kiss you…” She started, this piqued his interest and he raised one eyebrow inquisitively.

“Those are green like the sea.” She said with a tantalizing smile.

Percival didn’t know why but the thought that the sound of his voice caused her to see colors made him happy. It also made him wonder how long she had been able to see the tone of his voice. Even more, he wondered if she had known long before the summer how he felt about her just based on the colors she saw.

He decided he didn’t care and retreated under the blankets, pulling Edith down with him to help keep him warm. The heat emanating from her body was comforting as he held her close as his head still hurt but at least, for once, there was no work to pull him away from her.

So he stayed with her for the rest of the day, holding her, kissing occasionally but mostly falling in and out of sleep. Nothing had ever felt so good and he wanted more lazy days with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Percival gets champagne drunk, it's one of the funniest kinds of drunk because it creeps on you so unexpectedly and it's a celebratory drink. I imagine MACUSA doesn’t serve hard liquor at formal functions to keep people from acting like fools, but that just means everyone hits the wine and beer hard.
> 
> Tum somnum is not an actual spell, it’s just Latin for ‘sleep well’ and was just something I threw in because I couldn’t find an actual sleeping charm incantation.
> 
> What Edith describes when talking about tasting, seeing, and smelling colors and her brother experiencing sensations when certain words are said is called Synesthesia. It is a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in another. There are thought to be 60 to 80 different types of Synesthesia and only a handful have been documented and studied. Little is also known about what causes Synesthesia but there are theories and studies currently ongoing. It is thought that any two senses are capable of becoming crossed. Edith is triggered by auditory stimulation but the outcomes vary.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

January Nineteen Twenty-Five was interesting, to say the least. To say the most, it was an absolute mess of travel, paperwork, and arrests all related to the Brotherhood. New information kept piling in but it made very little sense in the grand scheme of things. 

There was no clear leadership, no set base of operations, and still no explanation as to why the Roanoke students were taken in the fall. It was almost as if nobody had thought it through. What the hell was the end goal?

Percival tried to keep the stress at bay but often it was far too hard. During a week-long investigation in Louisiana, he found himself completely unable to sleep. Each night he got less rest than the previous one, lying awake in the hotel bed staring at the ceiling waiting for something to happen.

He thought about Edith and how much he had begun to hate the way this job kept him from her. He was already disgruntled that he had to tread so lightly with her in and around headquarters. It seemed they never had enough time together; short lunches, weekend walks, stolen kisses, discreet flirtations behind closed office doors, and a few nights during the week spent holding her while they slept. 

Would he always be too consumed with work to give her the kind of relationship she deserved? If they married and had children, would they know him only by brief interactions between piles of paperwork? 

He thought about his mother, about how little his father had been home when he was a child. His dear mother sitting by the window waiting for her husband only to be ignored when Father Graves came home too exhausted to spend a moment with either of them.

Yet his mother loved his father unfathomably despite the man never so much as holding her hand or uttering a word of affection to her. Percival grew angry at the recollection but also worried that he would end up subjecting Edith to the same awful life.

When he got back to New York late on a Saturday night he went straight to Edith’s apartment. She came to the door groggy, half asleep and confused by his presence but that quickly faded to concern when he pulled her into a tight hug and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Percy, what’s wrong?” She whispered, stroking his hair as she maneuvered them from the quiet hallway into her apartment with difficulty as she was trapped firmly in his arms.

“I just missed you.” He said, standing up straight and pressing his forehead to hers. Her eyes told him she knew he wasn’t telling her the whole truth but she seemed to be able to push it aside as she helped him out of his coat and work clothes and brought him to bed with her.

The next morning, he woke to the smell of meat, eggs, and coffee. His hunger dragged him from the bed into the kitchen where he came up behind Edith, arms wrapping around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder watching her make breakfast.

There was middle bacon, link sausage, black pudding, over-easy eggs, baked beans, roasted mushrooms, and some kind of scone. His mouth watered at the sight of it and he decided he needed to fit breakfast into his schedule more often.

“Careful, you’ll spoil me and then I’ll never leave.” He teased, placing a gentle kiss on her neck and feeling her chuckle against his lips.

“Who is to say that’s not the plan?” She replied, as the coffee pot magically lifted itself and began pouring him a large mug full of liquid life.

It was then he concluded he was already too little like his father to be worried about subjecting Edith to an affectionless romance. He couldn’t help but always want to hold her, kiss her, annoy her which was much more than his father had ever been capable of.

In February, Percival drove himself crazy trying to find Edith a gift for Valentine’s Day. She bickered with him about it insisting that he not get her anything because she did not want or need anything. Percival conceded grumpily, or he thought he had until she ignored him at work for two full days when he suggested they go out for dinner at a fancy restaurant in Midtown.

Instead, for Valentine’s Day they stayed in, she made dinner, chicken braised in red wine with creamy mashed potatoes and she let him stand behind her and hold her the entire time she cooked. They danced slowly to a small music box she had stowed away in her wardrobe and tried to get him to play with her cat, who seemed to love annoying Percival. The evening ended up being better than anything he could have come up with, it was simple and intimate.

Edith slept easy beside him that night but he found himself unable to do so himself, mulling things over in his head before he came to a decision. He kissed her cheek and nuzzled at her neck until she woke up, turning over to face him and rubbing the sleep from her eyes in the darkroom.

“Why are you still up?” She asked as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“I was thinking about something.” He said.

“In the middle of the night?” She questioned.

“Yes.” He stated, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“What were you thinking about?” She mumbled, dozing off again.

“How much I love you.” He admitted, his heart seizing with fear. Edith opened her eyes and looked at him, he couldn’t read her expression.

“You love me?” She asked breathlessly.

“More than anything.” He told her and she was quiet for a long time.

“I love you too.” She whispered finally, her voice shaky.

Percival’s heart felt like it beat more freely than it had in years, the invisible binds falling away and a massive weight being lifted from his shoulders.

She placed a sweet delicate kiss on his nose, burying her head into his chest and holding him tightly like she was afraid he may be ripped away from her at any moment. Percival wrapped his arms around her, trying to squeeze out her fears and doubts. He never wanted to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally insulting myself at the beginning of this chapter because I can’t figure out what the hell the Brotherhood should be doing. My bad.
> 
> Edith makes a full breakfast or ‘English Breakfast’ for Percival in this chapter. A full breakfast varies by region but in Scotland, it typically contains eggs, link sausage, baked beans, tea or coffee, Stornoway black pudding, Lorne sausage, Ayrshire middle bacon, and tattie scones. It commonly also includes fried or grilled tomato or mushrooms and occasionally haggis, white pudding, fruit pudding, or oatcakes.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

As March rolled in, the Brotherhood grew increasingly bolder. On one particular afternoon filled with freezing rain and snow, there was a failed attempt to infiltrate Rackharrow Hospital on Huckleberry Island just outside of the Bronx.

Percival and his team arrived shortly after the hospital staff and patients saw the boat heading towards them from Pelham Bay. It was a curious sight as the little tug boat struggled to make landfall on the rocky shoreline circling the island twice before pulling into one of the few sandy beaches.

The NoMajs didn’t appear to be very good at operating the boat as the wind, waves, and low visibility caused them to run aground while Percival, Marcus, several Aurors, and a few hospital staff watched from the shore in confusion. The infiltrators surrendered quickly after that, the seven men disembarking and laying down their weapons knowing there was now no way to escape.

Most surprising was that the Head-Healer-in-Charge of Rackharrow Hospital knew one of the men; a third cousin on her mother’s side who had been born a Dud. When Percival got back to the office, he sent Edith down to the records department with a list of family names to pull genealogical information on.

“What are we looking for?” Edith asked as she scanned over page after page of dozens of books. 

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Percival said plainly as he browsed the pages of an equally sizable stack of records. He had an inkling suspicion forming in his head but he still hadn’t been able to put it together.

“That doesn’t help me though now does it?” She pointed out.

After nearly two hours of browsing Percival dropped his head to his desk in defeat, he hadn’t found what he was looking for yet and they still had three carts full of historical records to go through. 

“Percy!” Edith almost shouted and when he looked up at her she had shot out of her seat and was frantically flipping pages in the book she held.

“What?” He asked, holding out his hand so he could see what she had found. Edith placed the old tome on his desk and pointed to a particular person on the family tree, the name read ‘Andrew Ward’. Percival sat back and thought about it for a moment.

“I know that name.” He said, looking up at Edith confused because he couldn’t remember where from.

“That’s the boy you interrogated in November.” Edith reminded him.

“Everyone in his family is witches and wizards except him and his mum.” Edith noted, pointing to the broken branches on the tree that led to them.

“He was a Dud, just like that other one today…” Percival trailed and the cogs in his head began to turn again.

“How much do you want to bet we’ve arrested more than a few Duds in the last few months?” He asked her, grabbing another book and tearing through it.

Edith followed his lead and they began sorting through the records faster now that they knew what they were looking for. Out of precaution Percival personally went through the records for the most senior officials at MACUSA, he decided this after Edith had unintentionally grabbed the Sisk Family records. 

He practically ripped it out of her hands saying he’d ‘handle it’ and gave her a knowing look. Ronald Sisk was still the subject of covert surveillance and Percival was still not taking any chances with Edith becoming caught in the middle of it.

Percival also apparated home briefly to rummage through a closet with some of his father’s old belongings. In it, he found the old journal where his father kept records from his time as an Auror.

By the next morning, with the aid of a lot of coffee and a Wideye Potion, Percival had as much information as he needed. His office looked like a tornado had run through it with texts laying out everywhere and family maps fully extended on the floor.

“You’re brilliant.” He said, kissing her hard when she handed him a fully organized write-up of everything they had dug up before rushing out of his office and leaving her there amongst the mess.

Percival went to see Marcus first before they headed to see the President. Seraphina was not at all thrilled with the new information.

“You’re telling me everyone we have arrested has a magical parent?” She questioned through gritted teeth.

“I reviewed the documents myself. The attacks are not coming from the outside, they are coming from within.” Marcus confirmed.

“I don’t understand. The Brotherhood is supposed to be religious zealots who hunt us in the name of their God.” Seraphina reminded them.

“It has been many years since we have dealt with the Brotherhood. When my father worked here, they still went by Ad Fratrum Expellite Magia. They’ve never been anything but some archaic secret society.” Percival said, tossing his father’s journal on her desk. Seraphina opened it to the pages he had marked.

“They were fanatics, NoMajs who met in church basements and in community houses. However, their mission was to assimilate us and free us of our demons, they were never out to kill. They used crucifixes, bibles, and exorcisms, sometimes they even just exposed us so that we’d move away out of fear of persecution.” Percival added.

“And now they are suddenly committing murder and kidnapping children? The people we have arrested are on the fringes of our society and they’ve taken up AFEM’s name for their cause.” Marcus pointed out.

“Marcus, you both seem to be suggesting that they are out for revenge.” Seraphina said.

“Benjamin Rosenfeld’s younger brother is a Dud.” Percival interjected and it caught Seraphina’s attention. 

“One of the men who tried to storm the hospital yesterday is the Head of Rackharrow’s cousin, also a Dud.” Marcus added.

“Congress has not been kind to non-magical members of the community. We have strict policies on registering Duds, restrictions on how they interact with magic, and even their own families. Most of the families on this list would never even admit to having a Dud within their bloodlines.” Percival told her.

“We do that to protect ourselves and them.” Seraphina said defensively.

“And look what has happened.” Percival shot back.

“Madame President, we have created a hostile environment for these people. We have cast them out, isolated them, and sown the seeds of jealousy and hatred. There is a civil war coming if we don’t get this under control right now.” Percival wasn’t going to back down, not this time. Seraphina stared at both men intensely before rubbing her temples and dismissing them.

All he and Marcus could do was wait to see what action Congress would take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Huckleberry Island is the location of the Rackharrow Hospital, the magical hospital I made up to compliment the United Kingdom’s St Mungo’s. I named the hospital after Urquhart Rackharrow, a healer from the 1600s mentioned in Order of the Phoenix.
> 
> Huckleberry Island is a real location however, it is a small 10-acre island in the Long Island Sound and is part of the City of New Rochelle in Westchester County. New Rochelle sits just about 2 miles northeast of the Bronx. 
> 
> I had a difficult time finding a location for the hospital because I didn’t want to place it in any particular borough. However during the late 1800s and early 1900s when many people immigrated to America it was common for hospitals to be built on small islands around the city to quarantine sick individuals. Roosevelt Island and both North and South Brother Islands located in the East River were the locations of real hospitals that treated the sick and North Brother Island most famously housed Typhoid Mary for nearly two decades. Governor’s Island in New York Harbor as well as Hoffman and Swinburne Islands in the Lower New York Bay were all also used at some point to house outbreaks of deadly illnesses.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

When Percival arrived back at his office after meeting with Marcus and Seraphina he found Edith stacking the heavy tomes back onto the carts so they could be returned to the records department. She looked as exhausted as he felt, they did after all work straight through the night.

“You should take the rest of the day.” He said, closing the door behind him and guiding her away from the books.

“If I did that you’d probably explode trying to sort these yourself.” She teased him with tired eyes. Percival leaned back against his desk, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“Not sure how I ever managed without you.” He chuckled, nuzzling her face before bringing his lips to hers. Edith smiled and leaned into the kiss. 

They both flinched and pulled away from each other when they heard the doorknob turn and Marcus let out a confused and embarrassed ‘Oh my’. Percival stared straight at his colleague with a blank expression, while Edith stood like a statue not far from him with her eyes on the floor.

“I-i didn’t mean to interrupt, haha. These doors should really say ‘please knock’.” Marcus ranted nervously.

“I need to get these back downstairs.” Edith said quickly, grabbing hold of the carts loaded with tomes and pushing past Marcus without any eye contact. Marcus closed the door behind her and looked back to Percival with a chuckle.

“I trust I don’t have to tell you to keep your mouth shut.” Percival said coldly as Marcus stuffed both his hand in his pockets.

“Oh come on Graves. I’m a better man than that.” Marcus defended.

“We all get tempted by pretty little things, especially our secretaries.” Marcus laughed, making his way into one of the seats in front of Percival’s desk.

“Some of us choose to be more discreet about it.” Percival stated.

“Oh, do you really think if Johanna cared what these people thought of her, I’d be all over the way I am?” Marcus said.

“And what does Eleanor think?” Percival asked, he didn’t mean to be rude but Marcus had never tried to hide his affair and someone must have told his wife by now.

“I wouldn’t know I haven’t spoken to her since she left me for another man two years ago.” Marcus stated. Percival gave him a shocked look.

“Oh, I know what everyone says. I’ve been cheating on my wife, for shame. Truth is I never once touched Johanna until Eleanor left me.” Marcus informed him with a very serious face.

“Why don’t you say anything?” Percival questioned.

“I am a much older man than you Graves, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me anymore. But Eleanor, she is still the mother of my children and I will not let anyone make her out to be some hussy. Johanna will leave me too one day, I have no doubt, but her reputation will recover much more easily.” Marcus said.

Percival watched Marcus, they had worked closely for nearly a decade, he even met his wife and children on occasion. Yet it seems he hadn’t known the man at all and even worse, he seemed to have misjudged him entirely.

“Anyway, my lips are sealed. Whatever is going on between you and Miss Matasen seems innocent enough, so let's not spoil it.” Marcus smiled.

“Thank you.” Percival said quietly.

“Now, I came in here to discuss something with you and for the life of me I cannot seem to remember what it was.” Marcus scolded himself.

“Ah, yes. I came to speak to you about Mr. Sisk.” Marcus recalled. He had been the only other department head to know about the ongoing investigation into Ronald Sisk.

“I just wanted to inform you of something you may have missed in your research.” Marcus said.

“What could I have possibly missed?” Percival asked, he was very thorough while reviewing the records.

“You missed his son.” Marcus said plainly.

“Melvin?” Percival questioned.

“No, his other son.” Marcus smiled.

“Sisk only has one son.” Percival pointed out.

“Are you sure about that? Because I have it on good authority that Mr. Sisk has another son with a woman that isn’t his wife, one he’s kept hidden away.” Marcus said standing up from the seat and walking towards the door.

“A Dud?” Percival questioned.

“That I am not sure of but Mr. Sisk has been having some memory issues as of late. He’s been losing minutes here and there. Who knows where he may have been, who he may have spoken to, or what they may have discussed.” Marcus revealed and the mood in the room grew very dark.

Marcus looked at Percival very differently, like an entirely new man. He thought perhaps this presence that Marcus was giving off was not too dissimilar from what the man was like in his prime, twenty or some years ago. Marcus had gone from a cheery, red-cheeked older man to dark-eyed and lethal.

“And where did you get this information?” Percival asked suspiciously.

“Oh, don’t you know? I was the best man at his wedding and Melvin is my godson. Good lad Melvin, he worries about his father, often seeks my council.” Marcus said before giving Percival a smile and leaving his office.

Percival was unsettled by the shift in Marcus’s demeanor. He was much better at keeping secrets than he had expected. In his fifteen years at MACUSA, Percival never once saw Marcus Minus and Ronald Sisk get along, so when were they ever close enough to be so involved in each other’s families?

Percival thought about Edith, about how Marcus had seen them together and he worried that it would eventually come back to haunt them. Marcus had seemed sincere when he assured Percival he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, but Percival wasn’t sure he fully trusted the man anymore.

Despite his uncertainty regarding the Auror, Percival assured Edith when she got back that Marcus would not tell anyone, which didn’t seem to calm her. She was still cross by the time they sat down for lunch at the restaurant.

“He doesn’t know anything other than what he saw.” Percival reminded her.

“A person can draw a lot of conclusions based on what he saw.” She hissed at him, arms folded across her chest.

“They will draw every conclusion except the right one.” He said with a smile, grabbing her hand and pulling it towards him.

“I suppose you’re right.” She grumbled.

“Who could ever guess that you have a heart?” She teased and he tried not to laugh, he just kept holding her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“I don’t think anyone could ever truly understand how much I love you.” He confessed and Edith’s face turned pink.

It had been several weeks since he first said those three words to her and each time he said them her eyes shone brightly. She always whispered it back to him and though it was mousy and filled with hesitation, it was always sincere. She admitted to him when he asked about it that she was afraid to say it much louder, not because someone may overhear, but because she was scared if the universe found out it would devise some cruel way to take him from her.


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

Percival sat in annoyance at the conference table as Seraphina shot down every idea presented to her about changing the policies towards Duds. In fact, the only proposals she seemed to like were her own and all included tightening the restrictions and isolating the community even further.

Percival tuned out the conversation, having nothing to offer. How many more years did he have to do this before he could retire? He was thirty-six and he already felt ancient with grey already in his hair. He should just quit he thought too often, but then someone would say or do something stupid and he’d realized he couldn’t quit.

For now, all he had to look forward to was Friday. Those were always good days because he’d go home with Edith and spend the weekend indulging in her brilliant, headstrong personality. Friday’s officially became his favorite back in March, after a particularly rough day that kept him locked away in meetings until well past office hours.

He sat on the edge of her bed that night and pulled off his tie exhausted when he felt the bed dip behind him as she came closer and helped him out of his dress shirt. He was far too enraptured by her presence to stop her when her hands slid up his back beneath his undershirt, tracing long-forgotten scars before she began to tenderly massage the tension away.

Edith’s fingers worked away the knots in his shoulders, soothed the aches along his spine, and loosened the pinched nerves he hadn’t even realized were in his neck and at the base of his skull. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so relaxed. Eventually, she moved away from him and pulled him back onto the bed so he could lay down, his head resting in her lap as she stroked his hair and leaned down to kiss him softly.

Percival looked up at her unable to fathom the amount of love that filled his heart at that moment. No one had ever shown him such affection, such tenderness or care in a way that made him feel like he was worth something more than the flesh he lived in. The following Friday, he asked her if she could do it again which made her giggle but she obliged and he fell asleep that night with his head in her lap feeling overwhelmingly loved.

His attention came back to the conference room where he currently sat trying to tune into the conversation again. He was pretty sure he had missed an important bit of information but knew better than to admit he hadn’t caught it because his mind was elsewhere. Edith however, filled him in on it at lunch when he proposed they sneak away to the Cape for the long Easter holiday.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving the city.” She reminded him.

“Since when?” He asked confusedly as he sipped his coffee.

“Did you pay attention at all during your meeting today?” She questioned and the look on his face told her all she needed to know.

“Madame President wants all senior officials to stay in the city while Congress debates the new legislation.” She informed him and he just nodded his head as if he had absolutely remembered that from the meeting.

“We can pretend like I've taken you away to the Cape." Percival said with a smile.

"How does one achieve that?" She teased.

"Well that would take away the mystery now wouldn't it?” He grinned.

“Hmm, I don’t know that you deserve a vacation when you can’t stay focused on your meeting long enough to retain the smallest details.” She teased.

“Well maybe I don’t, but you definitely do. So, pack a weekend bag and your best dress." He said with a smile and she gave him that skeptical look he adored so much.

On Friday, after work, they apparated to her apartment on the Lower East Side to grab her bag and open the windows for Larocco, who didn’t seem to want Edith to leave. The cat refused to budge from her bag and tried to squeeze into the pocket of her jacket as if trying to say he too wanted to go away for the weekend. Percival took her bag and told her it was fine to bring the beast with them. 

Edith tucked the cat into an open fabric bag before Percival finally took them back to his apartment. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as going away to the shores of Massachusetts but Edith had surprisingly never been to his home before. They always stayed at her place, that drab brown single room apartment that was either always too cold or too hot where they curled up together on a bed really only meant for one person and where he was at constant war with Larocco.

Edith scoffed at the size of his apartment when they got inside and Larocco bolted from her arms to parts unknown. Percival set down her bag and took her jacket and hung it up for her in the hallway closet but when he turned back to her she too had wandered off. 

Percival found her in the kitchen, staring up at the glass barrel-vaulted ceiling which revealed all the stars and clouds in the sky. His kitchen was about twice the size of her whole apartment, cabinets, and counters on each wall along with that ridiculous stove and refrigerator and a large island in the center.

“Come, I have something I think you’ll like.” He said taking her hand and leading her through the dining room, which was large enough to dine eight people, and into the living room. He sat her down in one of the ornate chairs by the fireplace and dusted off the gramophone on the cabinet next to it. He browsed through the shelf underneath it looking for the best thing to play for her.

“You actually own one of these?” She asked as he removed the record from its sleeve.

“Absolutely.” He said.

“I like music.” He added placing the record onto the machine and setting the needle down. Music filled the room and Edith’s eyes went wide when the man on the recording began to sing.

“I didn’t know they had ones with voices on it.” She said smiling up at Percival as if he had just rearranged the cosmos.

Percival often forgot that she had also grown up in a world very different from his; a very underprivileged world. She was just so intelligent and strong, when they were vehemently flirting or caught up in work, their conversations usually revolved around literature, medicine and culture. There were times though, like this one when he caught her off guard, when the evidence of her upbringing rose to the surface and if often left her embarrassed.

He remembered when they argued about what to do for Valentine’s day, how he wanted to take her to an upscale restaurant for dinner. She got frustrated and admitted that she had never been to a restaurant until he took her to lunch that very first time and all the etiquette and complex dishes confused her. Or how her music box had been the most expensive thing she owned until Percival gave her the brooch for Christmas, which was why she hid both in the back of her wardrobe when they weren’t being used.

She had never been on a proper holiday, never tasted wine, or done something as simple as going to a zoo. All the money she earned paid for her essential needs and her savings consisted of the few dollars she got every week from her brother’s military pension.

Where Percival had grown up in a beautifully maintained Victorian home with a room specifically dedicated to his toys, Edith had been reared in a dark one-room cottage with housework to occupy her time instead of games. Where he had parents to provide him shelter and love, Edith had her brother; a child raising a child and barely keeping things together.

As the music played he took her out onto the terrace to show her the view. She leaned against the stone wall, looking down into the street below and he pointed out to her the museum and the library as well as the gardens which he promised he’d take her to that weekend. 

“You don’t have to spoil me.” She reminded him, she really hated when he did. He just wanted to give her everything he thought she deserved, everything she had missed out on.

“Well, that was kind of the idea when I decided to take you on a  _ vacation _ .” He reminded her and she let out a laughing sigh, her concession.

Percival left one of the windows to the terrace open for the cat who they had both lost sight of. Inside, he showed her how to use the gramophone and let her play a few more of the recordings as she curled up on the couch beside him listening to the music and relaxing as normal people do.

“Do you have any books?” Edith asked as she rested her head on his chest. How could he have forgotten to show her the books? 

Percival looked down at her and simply smiled, getting up and dragging her by the hand to his study. It was a dark room, one side lined wall to wall, floor to ceiling with a built-in bookcase. Edith’s draw dropped and she practically hopped in excitement towards the shelves to browse the books.

“Have you read all of these?” She questioned, pulling a book from the shelf and flipping through the pages. 

“Not even close, although I’ve probably read about a hundred or so.” He laughed, walking back towards the foyer to grab her bag.

“Come on, you can bring the book.” He said nudging his head towards another end of the apartment. She closed the book and he quickly showed her the laundry and linen room and both of the guest rooms before bringing her to his room.

Just like the rest of his apartment, Percival’s bedroom was far too big for a single person. Even with an extra-large king-size bed in a bulky wooden frame in the room, there was still lots of space for a loveseat, a lounge chair, a vanity set, bedside tables, and a liquor cabinet. The bedroom had a hall extending off it with a long wardrobe against the wall and a door on the opposite side that led to the bathroom.

“Make yourself at home.” Percival said, setting her bag down and when he turned back to look at her, she held the book tightly to her chest, her face indicating she was lost in her thoughts.

“It’s a lot, I know.” He said, trying to ease what he assumed was her discomfort with the extravagance of his home.

“I would get so lonely here by myself.” She said softly.

“Well don’t worry, you’re here with me.” He said, his hands reaching out to her waist and closing the distance between them. Edith leaned her head back and he brought his own down to meet her lips.

“Come on, get settled. I’m going to make us dinner.” He said, kissing her nose. She smiled at him and kicked him out of the bedroom.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally a NSFW chapter.

Percival’s dinner ended up being ridiculously overstuffed sandwiches which he made under her cat's scrutinizing watch as it gazed at him from atop a cabinet in the kitchen. After they ate, he browsed some mail he had forgotten about, while she changed for bed. As he was getting ready to open a letter from his mother, Edith came in wearing his flannel robe, which was far too big on her.

“That’s mine.” He teased as she walked over to him and placed a kiss on his lips.

“It’s mine now.” She smiled, tightening the waist belt. He chuckled, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. 

Edith stroked the back of his head and he hummed with each delicate touch. She took him by the hand and led him back to his bedroom, helping him out of his waistcoat and dress shirt in the way he had become accustomed to. He sat on the edge of the bed after pulling off his pants and he felt her warm body brush against his back as she sat behind him.

Percival let himself disappear in her touches as she massaged his back and shoulders, shuddering when her lips met the back of his neck. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes as her kisses trailed up his spine and the side of his neck until she nuzzled him behind the ear.

“Sometimes I think you’re trying to give me a heart attack.” He said. She giggled in his ear as she wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him back onto the bed. He followed her motions, lying on his back and resting his head on a pillow. He looked up at Edith who propped herself on an elbow to his right as she traced his jawline with delicate touches.

“That’s my side of the bed.” He grumbled teasingly.

“Oh, is it?” She questioned playfully, rising to her knees.

“Let me just fix that then.” She said, placing both hands on his chest and swinging her leg over his waist so she was straddling his hips.

She leaned over him, her long ginger locks spilling forward and surrounding him like a sun-soaked waterfall. She gave him one of those titillating kisses, the kind that betrayed the innocence of the untouched parts of her. Percival submitted to each one, they were slow and intentional, meant to drive him insane and forcing blood to his godforsaken prick. 

His hands hovered dangerously close to her thighs, tempted to grip her backside and grind her hips into his. Instead, Percival clutched to the ends of the robe wrapped around her body which pooled at her knees on either side of him. He groaned when she pulled away, lifting his head to try and catch her lips again with no success.

As she sat up and looked down at him, her hands slid beneath his undershirt. Soft palms and delicate fingers exploring his abdomen, running over the scar of the wound she mended last year, creeping up his sides and smoothing out the hair on his chest, and following the path that ran down his torso. She was painfully methodical.

He stared at her with dark eyes, mouth slightly agape as he processed each and every touch her cold hands made against his skin. Percival hadn’t realized how tight his grip was on the robe until he unclenched his hands to allow Edith to bring his undershirt over his head and off his body.

He knit his fingers together and placed his hands on his forehead as he let out a moan, trying not to lose control as Edith’s lips began placing wet kisses along his neck and chest. The thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he should stop her, he was so close to the point of no return. So close to the moment where nothing would convince his aching cock to go away. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her, his eyes shutting and a moan escaping his lips as that seemingly innocent mouth of hers trailed down his chest and abdomen. 

His breathing hitched and he let out a lusty chuckle as she shimmied down his body, her hips grinding into his causing a soft moan to escape her lips. Edith knew exactly what she was doing to him as her lips moved beyond his naval and her fingers came to the waistband of his boxer shorts and he watched with bated breath as she pulled them off.

Her eyes studied him hungrily, taking in every detail of her prize as his cock lay hard against his stomach. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she adjusted herself, moving so that she was now between his legs, her hands on his thighs gliding upwards and bringing her whole body with her. He felt a strain in his core and her lips curled into a smile as she lightly raked her fingers down his hips causing his cock to twitch.

Percival let out a strangled moan as Edith’s hands held his hips and her tongue ran slowly up his length, he felt like his heart may have dropped into his stomach. She let out a satisfied sigh, she was enjoying driving him to the brink, enjoying the sounds he made as she finally won out over him in her months-long attempt to seduce him.

Edith’s eyes connected with his as she wrapped both of her hands around his cock, her fingers just barely able to connect around the bulk of him and the head still visible despite both of her hands holding him. She gave a testing stroke, both hands moving together and Percival let out a long breath and tortured chuckle. Her gorgeous lips wrapped around the head, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh at the base of it.

“Ohhh shit.” That was all that managed to come out of his mouth.

He was breathing much heavier now and he reached out a hand to push the hair away from her face so he could watch her suck at the swollen head. It was more sinful than he could have ever imagined, his dear sweet Edith on her knees between his legs, her hot wet mouth giving him pleasure. If he didn’t start trying to calm himself this would be over before he wanted it to be.

Percival let himself fall back into the pillows, one hand brushing her hair further from her face and bringing it to settle on one of her shoulders. He cupped her face, his thumb tracing across her lips as she came off of his cock with delicious pop, her tongue licking away the precum that she’d drawn out. He desperately wanted to force her mouth down his length and deep into her throat but he couldn’t. This was her moment and he wouldn’t take it from her. 

Her mouth slid over the tip again, one hand letting go of his cock so her mouth and lips could stretch and take in more of him while the hand still at the base began stroking him slowly. His eyes closed and he focused on breathing as she worked him, creating a sloppy wet mess as her head bounced up and down. He let out a hiss, cautioning her to be careful when she grazed him a little too hard with her teeth. 

He relished in every moment of it though, she was learning and goodness was she a quick study because the coil in his stomach was tightening, building up the tension in anticipation of a sweet release. He had been craving this, fantasizing about this, yet he still wanted, no he needed more and his hips bucked unintentionally sending his cock further into her mouth.

Edith understood the hint and she quickened the pace of her hand, putting a firmer grip on his shaft, sucking him harder and deeper, the tip of his cock pressing at the entrance of her throat each time. Percival's breath became ragged, fingers entangling in her locks and he practically growled when her mouth hollowed out, accidentally tugging on her hair.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He said quickly, breathlessly.

She never took her mouth off of him though and when she giggled at his response, he felt it vibrate through his body. Edith’s free hand snatched his wrist as he was letting go of her hair, wanting him to keep it there. Percival obeyed, both his hands gathering up her hair again, applying light pressure to the back of her head as she continued stroking him and flattened her tongue against his shaft. 

He treaded lightly, guiding her further down his cock but not pushing her beyond her limit even though he desperately wanted to. He melted every time she looked up at him, green doe eyes and pink lips stretched around him. She stroked his thigh and teased the sensitive skin at the junction of his pelvis and leg, it tickled, further driving his pleasure towards its peak.

After a while, he couldn’t take the torture anymore and swatted her hand from the base of his cock and took hold with a vice grip, stroking himself frantically. Edith sped up her movements, sliding her mouth up and down his shaft to match his strokes, her hands gripping his hips to steady herself. 

Percival could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, grunting and cursing under his breath. He pulled hard on her hair again and let out a strangled whine when she unexpectedly began forcing her mouth down on him harder than she previously had, her lips knocking against his hand as he stroked upwards.

The tip of his cock slammed repeatedly at the back of her throat, pushing against the tight muscles at the entrance, threatening to cut off her breathing. It was just so damn delicious to watch and feel his innocent lover behaving like some depraved starving creature.

Percival felt the intensity that had built up in his abdomen move and form an aching pit in his groin, a black hole pulling in everything. Edith’s focus shifted back to the head and she sucked on it hard, tonguing the slit and bringing him to the absolute brink as he rapidly stroked himself.

In an instant he snapped, he felt his orgasm rip through his core and the flow coming to the surface. Percival quickly sat up, gently nudging Edith off his length as he stroked himself a few more times, his other hand cupping the tip to contain everything just before he exploded with an animalistic growl.

Percival breathed heavily and fell back onto the mattress with a long sigh, closing his eyes and letting the euphoria wash over him. He felt Edith’s fingers trace circles on his thigh as she peeled his hand from his cock and opened his palm. His eyes shot open and he watched her clean away his seed in the most debauched way, his thumb slipping into her mouth and groaning when she ran her tongue along it. 

Percival grabbed her by the face and pulled her towards him, body falling atop his, their lips crashing together, tasting himself on her tongue. 

“Was. That. Okay?” She asked between kisses and Percival chuckled as he took her lower lip between his teeth.

“Absolutely perfect. Thank you.” He told her with a sweet sigh, pushing her hair from her face and pressing his forehead to hers, locking her in a tight embrace as she rested her head on his chest.

“I think you’ve broken me.” He said lazily as exhaustion washed over him. Percival’s heart still beat heavily but had returned to a more steady rhythm and she seemed to be listening to it with a smile like it was music.

“You can break me tomorrow.” She teased.

“That’s a promise.” He said, kissing her forehead and pulling at the robe around her body to help her wiggle out of it.

He threw it off to the side once she was free of it, the cotton of her nightgown feeling cool against her skin as she lay atop him. His arm wrapped around her waist, his free hand running through her hair only stopping briefly to wave his hand to turn out the lights.  His eyes shut as Edith’s fingers traced circles on his shoulders while she placed delicate kisses along his neck. 

It was so serene he hadn’t even realized he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, oh my goodness. Naughty things are finally happening!!!


End file.
